


Warcraft: Wrath of the Warchief

by CIIX



Series: Tectonic Divergence [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CIIX/pseuds/CIIX
Summary: A world at war, such is the reality of Azeroth.  Even its Earth-Warder and Aspect will know such horrors.  Garrosh's ultimate weapon will force Neltharion, the Lord of the Black Dragonflight to take sides or take matters into his own talons.  The Aspect of Earth may no longer be called the Worldbreaker anymore, but that does not mean that he is no a force to be reckoned with.  If anyone harms his family and friends, Neltharion will give them reason to fear his name.





	1. I

**I**

Choking black smoke rose up into the sky, ash turned the day into night. The ground quake violently, splintering black rock under their feet. Thrall stood strong against the chaos. Win whipped his braids about his muscular chest. The ground heaved again and the stumbled ever so slightly forward, thumping his foot down, his green calf bulging. He glanced to his side to find Nobundo rising up to dust the ash off his robes.

The mountain quaked beneath them and belch forth hot, noxious gas and spraying lava out of an open fissure. Lava bombs and hot pumice shot forth. The Shamans of the Earthen Ring dove forth as the hot lava rocks exploded upon impact, scattering dully glowing orange rocks at their sides. A Wildhammer shaman called out in utter agony as one of the lava bombs slammed against his head, setting his hair and beard ablaze. Thrall looked on with stoic concern as the dwarf's body continued to burn on in the blaze.

"We must keep the ash from reaching the town," Thrall heard Nobundo said as he approached him. "The Windrunner scouts reported that the town is almost evacuated. Some of the goblins are refusing to leave."

"The fools much rather loose their lives than their homes," said Thrall. "We can only save what we can."

The ground buckled and a gap opened up, releasing steam and poisonous, sulfuric gas right into the face of Nobundo. The blue-skinned, hooded alien coughed, falling to his knees, his face flushed and stinging with burns.

"Nobundo!" Thrall called.

Nobundo covered his face with this thick hands. Thrall rushed to his side and closed his eyes, laying his hand upon his friend. He slowly relaxed his mind, his fingers tingling as he called upon the water spirits, hoping they would help him heal Nobundo. Thrall could feel the tingling intensified as the spirits soothed the burns, the tightness of the skin loosening and the wounds cooling. Nobundo opened his eyes, gasping for air. He gripped Thrall's hand and nodded reassuringly.

"We're not doing much to stop the eruption, my friend," said the Broken Shaman. "We can't stop it, but there is one who can."

"If he ever gets here."

As if on cue, the heard a great whistling sound above the roar of the volcano. The clouds above seemed part as something enormous and black shot through the ash. Wings tinged with red, streaked with glowing orange veins and as big as the sky itself opened wide, dispersing the poisonous gas. Thrall could finally breathe much more clearly again.

A metallic tip of the titanic wings dipped down into the black rock, along the base of the volcano. Smooth walls jutted forth from the gash as the tip dragged along, creating a shield to divert the lava and the ashy flows.

"About time he showed up," said Thrall.

Neltharion, the Dragon Aspect of Earth–formally known as Deathwing the Worldbreaker, flew over the eruption. His massive, bulky body landed near the spewing vent. The gushing ash obscured him from Thrall and the others. Neltharion rose upon his hind legs and swept his feet forward. He felt the rumble of the mountain, the flow of the lava deep within, winding away from the vent. He heard an adjacent peak suddenly explode from the force a he guided the magma underneath. Neltharion took to the black ash-filled sky and banked off and landed upon the new open vent. The vent quietened, the ash slowly rising. Lightning flashed above, reflecting off of his elementium armored back.

The Great Black took to the sky again, only to land upon the ground near Thrall, his weight trembling the rock under the orc. He shifted as he stepped only closer, cracking the ground with each massive step.

"Thank goodness," said Thrall. "You stopped the eruption."

"Nope," said Neltharion, lowering his head down, snaking it towards the orc.

"No?"

"She's just cleaned her throat," said Neltharion. "This baby hasn't begun to sing. I've planted those walls along the base to help hold back the lahars long enough to get the others out of the town. But I predict that the mountain will blast its top off before sundown." He swung his huge head back towards the smoking mountain. "I have redirected most of the pressure to the other vent and its blast won't reach here. But without the pressure, the summit will collapse. All that debris will come rushing down to this point. They must clear out."

"We can't possibly move that many by then," said Thrall.

"Thrall," Neltharion began, leaning his huge, box-like head closer to the orc. "Thousands of tons of hot, volcanic ash, rock, gas, is going to bury that town. They need to move."

"They won't move," said Nobundo.

"Then, I will make them move," he said, his emerald green eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Neltharion, that's not a good idea," said Thrall.

The enormous mountain of a Black Dragon heeded not a word as he slowly rose to his feet. THe wind scattered, being swept violently by the spread of his great, leathery wings. Ash scattered, forcing the mortal beings to cover their eyes. The ground cracked and splintered beneath the Aspect's feet. The Great Black backed away, the muscles in his legs coiling up to make that first leap skyward. The air swelled around him, swirling in ashy gray dust clouds. Neltharion leapt powerfully into the air, the wind helping to propel him upward. Thrall and Nobundo slammed into the ground, being knocked back by the wind and the sheer force of Neltharion's wings. As the dust cleared and the ash settled down upon them like a sickly gray snow, the Earth-Warder was now a mere speck in the volcanic clouds above.

"He's getting better at controlling the wind," said Nobundo, coughing and sputtering as he rose up.

"He's getting better at a lot of things," said Thrall. "But not his public relations. The Earth-Warder will scare them to death if he flies over the village in such haste. Make the situation worse. The people of Azeroth are still frightened to see him–especially those of the Horde. Garrosh has not been kind when he speaks of Neltharion."

"He still calls the Aspect 'Deathwing'?"

"That and many other profanities," said Thrall. "Neltharion and Garrosh. So long as the Black Aspect remains in Kalimdor, he will continue to have a difficult time fairing. I wish he would consider the Eastern Kingdoms as his home instead."

"Varian may not speak as kindly, but he is more tolerant," said Nobundo. "And the only reason for that is because Neltharion remains on the opposite side of the Maelstrom." He crossed his arms. "And Calia wants to live in Theramore, from what I've heard from the dragon's mount."

"A dragon who's in deep attachment to her," said Thrall. He glanced back at the mountain, hearing the violent sound of a cannon fire blast off from them mountain top. The sound vibrated his ribs and he swallowed. "Neltharion is right about the mountain."

Nobundo nodded and then shouted back to the remaining shamans.

"Everyone get to your flying mounts! The mountain is about to blow!"

Thrall rushed for his Windrunner with Nobundo following him. The shamans scattered, mounting up gryphons and Windrunners and taking to the sky in a fury of wings. Thrall mounted up and took hold of Nobundo's hand, helping him on his Windrunner's back. Behind him, the mountain continued to thunder and roar violently as black as and heated fire raced into the sky. This ash was different, thicker, heavier, and made from the bits of the volcano's peak.

Over then miles away from the fleeing Shamans was the village. Many smart goblins or those frightened by the volcano's rumbling had fled–many started for Orgrimmar. The ones who stayed were the stubborn folk. They even fought the utter terror of seeing Neltharion land right at their gates. Neltharion glanced back towards the horrid sound of the mountain blasting away its peak and sending the flow down the sides in a violent surge of gray and black and dull red river of hot cloud of rock and ash. The trees were flattened into burnt sticks along the face as the pyroclastic surge raced on forward, growling like a terrifying, amorphous monstrosity ready to devour the town.

"You honestly prefer to be buried under that than flee?" Neltharion asked as he looked at the goblins.

"Get outta here, Deathwing!" said a squat, chubby goblin. "We don't need your help."

Neltharion leaned back. His head wagged, his braids flopped and his green eyes held a dull orange glow of frustration in them. Above, he spied the sky filling with fleeing gryphons and Windrunner wyverns. The Dragon Aspect deeply growled as he heard Thrall call down to him, urging him to escape. The shaman flew over his head, heading into the setting sun. Neltharion huffed, spouting volcanic ash from his snout. The cloud of hot debris continued to thunder closer. He could feel the earth tremble as the cloud came ever so closer to the village.

"Neltharion!" Thrall called. "The cloud!"

Neltharion continued to face the surging cloud head on, his eyes narrowing with intent. He could sense the goblins huddling together, watching the cloud as it continued towards them. The Black Dragon leaned upon his hind legs, bracing his weight against his tail. He spread his leathery wings wide as if they were the net to catch the cloud.

"Neltharion!" Thrall said. "Get out of there!"

"I am not leaving these people!" said Neltharion.

"Don't be a fool!"

"You don't be a fool, orc! Now let me do my job!"

"Neltharion, if they want to die, let them."

"I can't believe I heard that from you, Thrall," said Neltharion as he craned his head up to the wyvern above his head. "Even when I begged for death, you never gave it to me."

"This is different."

"Is it?" he asked. "Now go before you die!"

Thrall looked on, his sky blue eyes narrowing at the cloud. It truly was a monster, devouring the land as it raced on, leaving nothing but death in its wake. Then, he turned back to Neltharion. Deathwing, when he blasted out of the Maelstrom, his wings were covered in the same deathly cloud of fire, ash, and rock. Many parts of the land were still covered in the pyroclastic debris after Deathwing's flying over to mark his return to Azeroth. If anyone on Azeroth who could take on such a cloud, it was Neltharion. Though Thrall did not want to lose the Aspect, especially after all the work he did to bring him back from his insanity. The orc shook his head.

"There's no time!" said Thrall.

Neltharion rumbled and looked back towards the cloud.

"Then, brace yourself," said the Earth-Warder. He closed his eyes and gripped the ground with his feet. The cloud etched forth, coming ever more dangerously closer. He could no longer see the tree-line, nor the twilight purple sky. Neltharion took in a deep breath. Leaping into the air, he clapped his wings together. A slice of air rolled out from his wings, cutting a smooth, straight line through the black ash cloud. Thrall and Nobundo held their breaths, only hearing the sounds of their hearts thump against their chests as the Earth-Warder spread his wings wide, dividing the cloud with one sweep.

He parted the clouds, allowing them to pass on their side of the village, racing on harmlessly. They could feel the heat of the cloud, the static change in the air caused their neck hairs to stand on end. The hot wind blew across Neltharion face, his long braids flapped over his shoulders. He sliced through again as another wave of the black ash raced towards the village. As the cloud settled, covering land in sticky, slate gray. All but a patch of green remained where the village sat. Neltharion settled upon the ground heaving his heavy breath. Thrall and Nobundo looked on, wide-eyed.

Neltharion leaned over, resting upon his all fours again, wings draping limply upon the ash-covered ground. He looked behind him at the village, the goblin staring fearfully at him. The dragon leaned up and smirked.

"Don't need my help?" he asked. "Ungrateful, green midgets." Neltharion cleared his throat. "Don't rush to thank me all at once now. I know you can hardly hold back the gratitude."

"Neltharion!" Thrall called as his Windrunner landed. "Could you fly to that hill over there?"

"Why?"

"I need to talk to you about something–alone."

"What–"

"Just go!"

Neltharion snatched his head back at the commanding belt of Thrall's voice. His eyes narrowed and he lowly growled at the orc. The dragon slowly backed away, giving himself enough space and room to take to the air. Neltharion leapt into the sky, banking off towards an ash covered hill. As the dragon left, Thrall turned back to the villagers who decided to remain behind.

"We've taken many of the villagers to Orgrimmar," he said. "I suggest you join them."

"The ash has contaminated the groundwater and the lakes in the area," said Nobundo. "The herds have left. Most of your homes have fallen from the ash."

"We can manage," said one of the goblins. "When those refugees come home, they'll have a home to come to."

"Thank you, Warchief Thrall," said a female goblin.

"I'm not the warchief anymore," said Thrall. "Garrosh is."

"You're more a warchief than Garrosh."

"So people keep telling me," Thrall said in a sigh. "I can ask for assistance if you need it. Though, I do suggest moving."

He mounted upon his Windrunner and help Nobundo on board. They took of to the sky, searching for where Neltharion had flown off to. Thrall's eyes darkened when he saw the Black Dragon lying upon the hill near a lake. He could smell the stench of fish rotting upon the surface, belly up, dying of suffocation from the ash fall and the lake turning slightly acidic during the eruption. Neltharion laid at the edge of the lake. His black body caked with volcanic ash, turning him a dull gray in the waning light. The sky still rained ash from the secondary erupting vent that he sent most of the lava to. That vent was not as clogged, the lava freely flowing down in a orange river down the black sides. The main vent had finally quieted, the mountain loosing a hundred feet from the summit. All that was left was a large crater, still smoking slightly.

Thrall landed and slowly approached the dragon. Neltharion looked back at the orc and even in the dark, Thrall could feel the chill of his deep frown.

"Neltharion," he began.

"Don't start," said Neltharion. "I know, I'm a big scary dragon."

"No, it isn't that–"

I'm Deathwing."

Thrall sighted, wagging his head.

"You're pushing, Neltharion," he said. "Over zealous, forceful, brash, and being as you were Deathwing, that doesn't help. They are not used to seeing Azeroth's Earth-Warder in action, they don't know how to react. Especially when all they've known–"

"When all they've known is Deathwing's destruction," said Neltharion. He lifted his head to look blankly upon the clearing dark sky. He saw a twinkle of a star in a hole in the clouds. "How long has it been, how long since you cured me, Thrall?"

"It has been nearly two years, Nel," said Thrall.

"Two years, nothing changed. In fact things have gotten worse."

"Garrosh–"

"Garrosh, yes, Garrosh," said Neltharion. "He's the problem."

The Black Dragon growled louder, gripping the ground tightly. The ground shuddered under his growing heating anger. The rock buckled under his weight. Thrall turned as he saw a fissure began to open up right behind the dragon, spraying a fountain of viscous fiery lava in a deep rumble. Neltharion rose to his all fours, the rock continuing to buckle under his immense weight.

"All the time, does he speak kindly of me? No!"

Nobundo turned as he heard the ground rumble in response Neltharion's fury.

"You did crash land in front of the gates, drunk and blind that day," said Thrall.

Neltharion huffed and the ground once more echoed his expression.

"Neltharion," said Thrall. "Please–"

"What?" asked Neltharion. "Please, what?"

"Just don't make this difficult."

"Difficult?" asked Neltharion. He looked back at the mountain. "Who was it that built a village near the foot of a volcano?"

"We did not know that mountain was a volcano," said Thrall.

"Didn't know it was a volcano?" Neltharion. "How could you not know?"

"I don't have your knowledge, Neltharion," said Thrall. "How do you know, then?"

Neltharion settled down. He slammed a fist into the ground, closing his eyes.

"I can see the result of past lava flows buried under the dirt," he replied. "I can see the crustal upheaval caused by the plate below moving underneath this plate, how it pushes up these mountains over the course of the millennia." Neltharion turned towards Thrall, opening his eyes. "There's more to my job than you thought, huh? It isn't just about keeping the elements in check." He looked behind himself, seeing the fissure still spout its fiery fountain. "This eruption is not ending, not yet. I suggest keeping some shamans here to monitor its progress."

"There is one thing I need to know," began Thrall. "Was this caused by the elementals themselves? Are they still in flux even after the Cataclysm's ending?"

"No," said Neltharion.

"No?"

The dragon shook his head.

"Then what caused it?" asked Nobundo.

"Nature," said Neltharion. "Two tectonic plates slamming together, building the mountain range. This is probably the first time in centuries that planet has a chance to naturally do what it naturally does." Neltharion turned back to Nobundo. "And we should not disturb what it does naturally. That was part of the problem that made this planet so uninhabitable in the first place. A part of the reason why the Titans came here to create order upon this world was to keep the elementals from disturbing its natural dynamo. The Old Gods hindered the natural process of this planet by allowing the Elemental Lords continue their furious wars. I was created to make sure that did not happen. My purpose is to see to it that nature is not stopped, but is allowed to grow."

"We need to make sure the elementals do not go mad again," said Nobundo. "If they do, they may cause a similar instance like the Cataclysm you caused two years ago, Earth-Warder."

Neltharion nodded: "The problem is with bound elementals. Using them against their will can infuriate them."

"Yes," said Thrall. "We were discussing that before the eruption began. I thought perhaps this eruption was caused by such a creature. A shaman not paying his respects to the elements as he should."

"If no one uses bound elementals," Neltharion began. "Then, the Earthen Ring can truly restore the balance to the planet that was disrupted by the Cataclysm. The remaining Elemental Lords would appreciate us not using their children against their will. Shamans must rely on their own powers over the elements, not the elementals themselves. Before my corruption, I rarely even used elementals–at least bound ones. They used to come when I call willingly and the power I used came from my heart and not from them."

"Unfortunately, shamans cannot command the elements as if they were one with them like you can, Neltharion," said Thrall. "Though I wish we could. You don't even need totems to fuel your power. It's just–there. Quite a difference since the day I helped cured you of Deathwing."

Neltharion smiled softly: "I've been–soul searching. There's still a long way to go before I'm back at the power I used to have prior to Deathwing. That power–it never came from any external source, it came from inside me. Today, I'm one step closer. But right now, the Earthen Ring should focus on spreading the word of banning the control of bound elementals. I'm sure shamans can do what I can do–just ask the elemental rather than commanding them. It will stop any future Cataclysm from happening."

Thrall scratched his beard, taking in a concerned breath over the wisdom the Earth-Warder had given him. It indeed had been long since such wisdom came from the Aspect. These past months, Neltharion has taken on his charge a bit more seriously than before, fueled partly by guilt, but mostly by the renewed sense of responsibility he had to the planet.

"It's just a suggestion," the dragon said, tiling this great head down at the orc. He gave a shrug, his wings spreading slightly as he raised his shoulders up, hunching over.

"He may have something," said Nobundo. "After dealing with the Elemental Lords and coming to an accord with them, using elementals against their will maybe in gross violation with that relationship."

"Summon all of the Earthen Ring," said Thrall. "And any friendly shaman. Tell them to meet us at the Southern Earth Shrine near Tanaris."

Neutral territory," said Neltharion with a bob of his head. "And being watched by my elder brother Nozdormu. I hope he doesn't mind me showing up for dinner. Though, he did say he's been meaning to spend more time with me. I should pay him a visit after the meeting."

"He probably already has foreseen our arrival," said Thrall. "Neltharion, can you help me keep the peace?"

Neltharion rumbled and dipped his head: "I shall be there in my full size. No one would ever dare to attack with me looking down at them."

"Thank you, old friend," said Thrall.

Neltharion's smile grew even wider.

* * *


	2. II

**II**

Nearly a week had gone by since the volcanic eruption in Southern Kalimdor. The Southern Earthshrine was a small stone shrine in a circle of tall granite pillars. The Shrine was recently erected for anyone to meet regardless of faction and meet peacefully for the greater good of Azeroth. This was where they could also meet up with the Earth-Warder safely without any issues from regular folk not used to seeing Neltharion around. Spread out all around him was the white, smooth, soft dunes of the desert. The Great Black smiled, feeling comfortable as the heat reflected off of the sand, warming his body. His black scales sucked the heat in.

The shrine was located in the desert near Tanarsis, a good private local and distanced away from the major populated areas. About twenty miles east was Uldum, the ancient Titan facility where Neltharion recalled his construction–the makings of his body and programming.

Neltharion winced at that thought that he and his brother and two sisters were more like the Titanic Watchers, constructs built for a specific function than actually dragons. Kalecgos, the replacement Aspect of Magic, was more dragon than Neltharion. He was born from an egg, he grew up, he had a childhood. Neltharion was constructed from the flesh of Galakrond, and the heart of Azeroth itself, born inside a glass cylinder with wires and tubes connected to his hide, the only face he saw when he stirred from unconsciousness was a bronze-skinned with an auburn beard and a disapproving look on his face. Though, Neltharion could not mistake the eyes–emerald green like his own.

_I wonder because my eyes are like his, does he see through mine?_ Neltharion thought quietly. _Has he seen all the horrible things I've done, does he even know the pain I've gone through those thousands of years ago?_

"Neltharion," began Thrall, catching the black behemoth's attention. "We're ready."

Neltharion took in a deep breath and turned his great bulk to the gathering crowd. The crowd was a mixture of shamans from all walks of life, every faction. He even saw a few Argent Dawn shamans flying down from Northrend. Though the Scourge was not as powerful as it used to be under the combine control of Ner'zhul and Arthas, the undead were still a threat to common folk. Then the sky darkened as the sound of dragon wings stirred the air. Neltharion looked up, his green eyes flashed as he spied dark silhouettes flying over his head. They were black drakes carrying riders. The Aspect followed their path as they landed at the back. The riders were orcs with dark gray skin and wore heavy, spiked armor that seemed out of place for shamans. However, Neltharion could sense their control over the elements. They were shamans.

Though what concerned Neltharion even more were the drakes. These drakes, they were not from his recent brood, nor were they from Sabellion's brood in Outland or Nameria's new brood. THese dragons and their riders bore the symbol of the Dragonmaw. Neltharion's eyes narrowed when he looked to them, locking his green orbs to their orange ones. The Aspect took in a deep breath, locking his jaw. There was hardly a fragment of intelligence in their eyes, not a glimmer of recognition as to who he was to them. They did not know who he was. The black drakes were nothing more than beasts the orcs were riding on.

_They did something to my children,_ Neltharion thought. _Those creatures did something to my beautiful children._

The Black Aspect growled deeply, his lips pulling back across his racks of dagger-like teeth. Black, ashy smoke rose from his nostrils as he ignited his fires. His eyes smoldered a dull red color as he continued to stare hotly at them.

Thrall felt the temperature of the air change, growing hotter and hotter as the air shimmered in a mirage around the Aspect. He reached out to a shield-sized black scale upon Neltharion's colossal foot, but then snatched it away the moment he felt the searing heat upon his calloused fingers.

"Neltharion," Thrall said, craning his head up to the dragon.

"Those two shamans should leave," said Neltharion, speaking gruffly between his teeth. "Before I do something I wonder if I will regret later." He turned to peer down at the shaman. "They are from the Dragonmaw Clan. They are not welcomed here."

"All shamans are welcomed, Neltharion," said Thrall. "They all need to hear this."

"They ride my children like beasts," said the Aspect. "I looked into their eyes. Those drakes don't even know me."

"Now is not the time to investigate the Dragonmaw," said Thrall. "Try to ignore it. If they are doing anything wrong, I'll find out for you. But you need to keep as far away from the Horde as you can."

"Thrall, how would you feel if someone took your child away from you and then when you found him, he serves your enemies without hesitation. Then he looks at you, he has no recognition of you an his masters have stolen his will and intelligence as well? Tell me if you ever have that happen to you and you can just stand by without making someone pay for the transgression, then I shall heed your warning. If not, then don't get between my children and me!"

Thrall ducked as the dragon lifted his foot up, making his way towards the two drake riders.

"Neltharion, no!" he called. "This is a sanctuary of peace."

Neltharion thundered towards the Dragonmaw Clan members. They looked up, hairs standing on end as they felt the ground tremble violently with each heavy footfall. The crowd parted as the thick black pillar of his muscular foreleg came down upon the sand. Around him, the colors of the many shamans drained away as their fear rose to choke them. They dared not even interfere, hoping the Earth-Warder would not step on them for attempting to stop him from reaching the two orc shamans riding on black drakes. The two riders kicked their mounts and the two black drakes chirped, kicking off and launching into the air. Neltharion began to spread his wings, his muscular hind legs bunched up, ready to leap after them.

"Neltharion, no!" Thrall called.

Neltharion paused, watching the two riders fly away. He swung his head back to Thrall.

"My children!" he said in a powerful, earthquaking bellow. The people down below shrank back from the sound of his thunderous voice.

"I know," said Thrall.

"Tell me yo would not do the same for yours. Tell me now!"

"I would hunt them down to the ends of the earth," said Thrall as he slowly approached the fuming Aspect. "But my child is an orc. Yours are black dragons. This is different."

"Is it? Is it honestly that much different? Your children are orcs, you have the right to defend them. But mine? Mine are black dragons, so I have no right? I have to let them go–be slaves to my enemies. Who the hell are you to tell me, their lord and father that?"

Neltharion took in a deep breath, puffing his great chest out. Thrall could see the rips between his black scales, pulsating with a dull red glow. Then, he exhaled, expelling a cloud of hot, gray steam. As he expelled the cloud, Neltharion's form shrank, becoming the size of a night saber, the large feline mounts of the Night Elves. The Black Aspect growled as he stomped towards the former-warchief. Neltharion met Thrall's gaze, nose to nose, his nostrils quivering.

"Tell me this, Go'el," began Neltharion. "How is this any different when the Orcs, who ravaged my planet for the glory of those demons–only to be locked up by the defenders of my world until you came to free them? Tell me now what right do you have to say I should stand by now and let the Horde abuse my children when you've not stood by to allow your own people be aimless slaves of the Alliance?" The dragon circled him. "If you can stand there and tell me now I have to sit and take it, then the whole purpose of your New Horde was built upon hypocrisy!" he withdrew, fuming hotly, heat radiating from his scales, shimmering in the unforgiving sun. "Then, my wife was right all along about you–and the Horde. You are no better than you were when you came here to conquer Azeroth nearly 40 years ago."

"No!" Thrall said. "Calia is wrong."

"Worldmender," began a gruff, but contemplative voice. "Most of the Horde does not condone the actions of Garrosh and his special clique of warriors."

Neltharion turned to find a Tauren in leather robes walking towards him.

"Thunderbluff is still appalled by these transgressions," he said. "Please do not condemn all of us for the actions of a particular few."

"And by attacking those shamans, you've widened the rift between you and Garrosh," said Thrall. "The hope you and I held that we could bring both the Alliance and Horde together–you are allowing all that to slip away. Please, Neltharion, this is supposed to be a meeting to discuss regulations we must impose upon shamans in order to prevent a second Cataclysm."

Neltharion rumbled lowly and then walked around beside Thrall, settling down upon his belly. He said nothing else, deciding to keep his words to himself. He quietly fumed, his mouth drawing into a daunt frown. Thrall raised his hand, calling the attention of the gathered shamans. He took a moment to glanced back at the Aspect of Earth only to have the dragon shift his gaze away.

"I am sorry," said Thrall.

Neltharion only snorted, using that as his disgruntled reply. Thrall could only shake his head. Turning back towards the crowd, he took in a deep breath.

"Only earlier this week, man of us has witnessed the recent eruption of Mt. Oro," he began. "The Earth-Warder has informed me that the eruption was not caused by any upset elemental. It was nature. An that means the planet is well on the way to returning to normality." He paused, hearing the pleased murmurs from the crowd. "We of the Earthen Ring have spent these last years since the end of the Cataclysm healing the broken land. While we have been successful in our efforts, our duties to Azeroth is unending. But most importantly, we must now make sure the travesties of the Cataclysm does not happen again. The Earthen Ring must now begin preventative measures to make sure the planet remains in balance. The first of these limiting the usages of bound elementals. We have a new relationship with the Elemental Lords who helped us during the Cataclysm. I much rather not install any hostilities with our new friends."

Once more the crowd rumbled in agreement, bobbing heads up and down, and silently discussing with each other on how they would take on this new regulation Thrall suggested imposing. If there was any discrepancies, they were not being vocal about it. They knew not to argue with Thrall. However, Neltharion could sense some of them, especially those of the Horde–orcs mostly–silently disagreeing with Thrall. The Tauren of course were in full support of this, due to their over all peaceful nature and harmonious respect for the elements. Neltharion silently smiled, respecting them above all other Horde races. One of the Tauren shamans, the one who spoke up earlier in defense of his faction turned to the Earth-Warder and then nodded, further proving that he and his people were for this new regulation. The dragon returned the nod.

However, there were still those who did not agree, and those particular Neltharion set his emerald gaze upon. There was another group of orcs who segregated themselves from the rest of the group, traveling together in a clique, it seemed. Each of these orcs were dressed similar to the Dragonmaw orcs, and they too held the skin tone of Black Rock orcs, but Neltharion did not see them fly here on black drakes. Whether or not they did, they still held the Aspect's suspicion. Neltharion's eyes began to glow dully orange in the shadow of his brow. They looked upon him with intent and his forepaws curled as a growl rolled off his lips. The Earth-Warder looked back to Thrall and his right eye twitched. He could feel the skin under his black scales flush as his capillaries opened wide. He could feel the skin tingled as he set his jaw, the veins in his temples popping.

He fought himself, with great failing strength, he tried to restrain himself from pouncing upon those Black Rock orcs. The corner of Neltharion's lips tremble. The dragon shut his eyes, his thoughts drowning out Thrall's speech. The shaman's hearty voice grew more and more distant as Neltharion concentrated on the Black Rock orcs. He shut his eyes tightly as he softly thumped his index talon upon the white sand.

The looseness of the sand made the shadow of vibrations he created with his finger muted as he attempted to extend his ear out to hear what they were saying. Flashes of white and waves of gray speckled his vision, but the orcs images on the sand remained blurry. The sounds of their voices echoed with heavy distortion as if they were standing in a concert hall with bad acoustics.

Neltharion witched at the touch of a hand upon his scales. The touch was so jarring after he was concentrating upon the orcs that he nearly leapt into the crowd. His heart bounded into his throat. The dragon turned to the side to find Thrall with his hand upon Neltharion's shoulder, waiting for him to add his input to the discussion. All eyes were on him, including the two Black Rock orcs. The dragon swallowed–looking between Thrall and the crowd.

"Neltharion," said Thrall. "Your turn."

The dragon exhaled and wagged his head.

"I think you've said it all," he said. Neltharion smiled with some hesitation. "They'll listen to you more than they would me."

The Earth-Warder dipped his head and stepped backwards, giving the shaman more of the spotlight. Thrall took in a deep breath as he watched the dragon move towards the side where many of the Alliance shamans were standing, taking a spot beside Nobundo. Thrall felt his heart clinch, realizing the dragon was now showing his true colors–blue

Neltharion, over the course of two years was slowly and slowly siding with the Alliance. Of course, this push was mostly due to Garrosh's actions rather than a simple choice of his own. Thrall understood that the Great Dragon Aspects had to remain neutral when it came to the petty conflicts of the mortals, they could not take sides. But due to the recent actions of the Horde, bringing the Dragonmaw Clan, orcs who enslaved Neltharion's children and slaughtered the adult black dragons to decorate their huts with their hides, the Aspect was becoming more and more drawn to the lesser of the two evils.

Neltharion's relationship with Varian was not friendly at all, but it was much better than his relationship with Garrosh who only saw him and his children as tools for war or enemies to be slaughtered. Despite his friendly relationship with some of the Tauren shamans and druids and a few orc shamans, Neltharion was at odds with the Horde as a whole because of Garrosh's "anti-Earth-Warder" propaganda.

And because of all this, the Earth-Warder had made an unspoken choice what side he took in this petty mortal war.

The Alliance was not using his children against their will, the Alliance, despite what Deathwing had done to them, was not trying to hunt Neltharion down like some rabid animal. The Alliance was being more tolerant of the Earth-Warder's presence. Even if that toleration was mostly in Theramore, where the people had gotten rather desensitized by the presence of a gigantic Black Dragon Aspect flying over their city, drinking in their tavern, or just walking down the street to go to market. From what Thrall heard, Neltharion was practically a citizen of Theramore Isle. And he could tell by the color of the Earth-Warder's black beard, slightly sun-kissed auburn and gold at the tips due to his many days bathing in the sun on Theramore's southern beach. Just about every human citizen of Theramore was tanned golden brown and had sun-kissed hair with heavy thick waves that mirrored the ocean it guarded. Neltharion could not tan due to his black scales, but his hair still showed that Theramore look. Even his scent had changed–smelling like that of sea salt rather than the sulfur stench of a volcano.

Thrall shook his head again and took another breath.

Neltharion watched him as he continued his speech, however his eyes slowly roved back towards the two suspicious orcs. Nobundo followed his gaze and leaned closer to the dragon.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Black Rock orcs," said Neltharion. "Dressed similar to the Dragonmaw I chased away earlier. Their not saying anything about Thrall's regulations, but I can tell they don't agree with it."

"They don't have to, but they do need to follow it."

Neltharion rumbled, turning away.

"I don't like it," he said. "This is bringing back some bad memories." He flipped a braid and sighed. "Like Queen Azshara and the Well of Eternity–bad memories."

Nobundo reached up to scratch his chin in deep contemplation. Then, he placed his hand upon Neltharion's shoulder, scratching between the scales.

"Cool your thoughts, my friend," began the Broken Draenei. "If Garrosh and his shamans do anything harmful, he will be punished for it. But we must catch it first."

Neltharion sniffed, once more giving no verbal reply.

_But no one cares what happens to my children,_ he thought. _My children are left as slaves. Everyone would leap to the call of Thrall if his child is stolen, but if I ask people to come to my aid to help my children, all I would get would be silence. Just to say we deserve what we get. Do I honestly deserve this?_

Neltharion began to bury himself within his own thoughts. His thoughts ran deep and all he could see were the Dragonmaw and the utter subjugation of his dear children. The dragon's still tingled and flushed with each thought that rolled in his mind. Lost in his thoughts, Neltharion drowned Thrall's voice once more.

The sun waned in the sky, slowly arching towards the west as the crystal blue turned a rich, golden orange. The meeting had adjourned and each shaman were mounting up on the creatures or vehicles that brought them there. Goblins climbed upon their motorized dune buggies, the engines heaved and popped with a boom and black smoke rising up out of the exhaust pipes. Tauren mounted upon their massive kodo beasts, sitting upon covered saddles, the enormous, thick hided rhino-reptiles trumpeted as they slowly lumbered on over the soft dunes. The orcs got upon their Windrunners and flew off towards Orgrimmar while the Wildhammer dwarves mounted upon their gryphons. Many of the dwarves appeared to be heading back towards Theramore. The Draenei and Broken Draenei hopped upon their Elekk, a type of medium-sized elephant-like creature native to Outland.

Neltharion looked around, watching for the Black Rock orcs he saw, trying to see where they had hid their mounts. As he looked around, he heard a terrible howl and several black, shaggy, fur-covered creatures leapt out over his head. The dragon ducked down, tumbling upon the sand as three great, black and gray furred dire wolves bounded over him. Neltharion rose up to shake the sand from his scales and to find the Black Rock orcs riding upon these wolves. They paused to only peer back at him momentarily, and then they ran off, heading north towards the Barrens. Neltharion started for them, until he was stopped by a hand. He gasped, turning behind him to see Thrall.

"It's not worth it," he said.

"Those orcs..."

"Neltharion, please," Thrall began. "Listen to me. It's very delicate right now. I'm sorry, but you can't go running off, killing orcs just because you have a grudge against the Dragonmaw or Garrosh." He wagged his head. "You truly are sounding more and more like Calia and Varian."

"That's not funny," said Neltharion with a huff.

"I'm not trying to be funny," said Thrall.

"Look, don't talk to me about what I should or shouldn't do, Thrall," said Neltharion. "Especially when the Dragonmaw shouldn't be using my children as mounts, or wall decorations! And if you are honestly my brother in this, then you _should_ be with me on this. You should be finding a way to help me in saving them!"

"Neltharion–"

The dragon growled again. Thrall could feel the sand shift under him as Neltharion focused his anger upon the ground. He turned to see the dunes begin to flow like waves of an ocean with the rumbling and trembling of the solid rock beneath them. A spout of sand exploded out in a cloud as hot gas released from underneath. Neltharion leaned back upon his haunches and brought his forepaws up. He began to crack his knuckles, curling his claws into fists.

"You know, even if I'm the size of a night saber," he began. "If I slam my fist against your jaw, I might make your brain pop out of your skull."

Thrall paused, his eyes widened at the words Neltharion said.

"But I'm sure you don't want me to do that, do you?" Neltharion asked. "Huh? One punch, Thrall. That's all it'll take. One punch, and you're dead." He slammed his fists together and the sound of the boom created from the force made Thrall's chest vibrate. "Just one punch."

"I don't think you'll get very far with threats, Neltharion," said Thrall, collecting himself. "And I'm not your enemy!"

"Keep reminding me that the next time you decide to get in my way!"

"Neltharion!" Thrall called, balling his own fists up as he watched the dragon walk away. "I'm sorry, but things have to be as they are–just for mow."

"Two years," said Neltharion. "Two years. I should have done something when I was in the Twilight Highlands. I should have burned their houses down."

"And what good what that do?" Thrall asked. "Would that change the Dragonmaw's mind? Would it bring your children back?"

Neltharion turned back to the orc: "You honestly don't care do you? You are just like the rest of them. Who cares if black dragons get harmed–they obviously deserve what they get because their leader shattered the planet." He spread his wings. "Because I deserve to feel them suffer because I fucked up! I get it! I deserve to the little bitch everyone has to slap around all because I fucked up. Well, I've learned my lesson time to let my children go. I'm not going to be just thankful that I saved a very small few. I won't be satisfied until they're all saved. Even if that means I have to raze Orgrimmar to the ground."

"Neltharion."

"Don't think I won't."

"Think for just one moment."

"That Horde you created is running on borrowed time. And the sands are running out!"

Thrall sighed, wagging his head: "Please. Just go home, and sleep on it, Neltharion. Sleep on it. Return to your Calia, hold her in your arms and–let all of it go. I will try to figure out how to help your children, but you and I can't do that while you're so hot under the collar."

Neltharion looked away, staring hotly at the sand, watching them turn a bright umber with the setting sun.

"You know why I'm acting like this?" he asked.

Thrall wagged his head. Neltharion looked back at him. The orc could see the glistening lines of tears as it flowed between the cracks of his scales upon his cheeks.

"I'm acting like this because I'm scared," Neltharion replied. "And the last time I was this scared, I was sensing the horror that Queen Aszhara was doing with the Well of Eternity. I could sense what she was doing, and I was afraid of it. But I said nothing, I kept it all to myself. That fear became my paranoia later on. Then my need to protect this world only made it worse–and then the Old Gods spoke to me. You can only predict what happened after that."

"Deathwing," said Thrall.

"Yes," said Neltharion. "My fear, coupled with my undying need to protect the planet, created my paranoia, and when I was pushed in the right direction, Deathwing was made. Well, that fear is coming back, that need to protect my world against a force that could threaten it has come back–in another form–but it's there. I've sat and listened to Orgrimmar from all the way in Theramore. I can't hear anything. It's like Orgrimmar is empty space. Somehow, Garrosh has figured out that I could listen in on him through the rock and found a way to block me. I don't know how, but not hearing anything coming from Orgrimmar is worrying me even more." He took in a deep breath. "I'm worried. I'm very worried. It's more about not what he is doing, but how the damn hell did he manage to hide from me like that? If he can hide from me, hide from the Aspect of Earth–the Aspect that can see any secret, then what else is Garrosh capable of doing? What else can he do? One mortal, Thrall, just one, and he seems to have the ability to blind fold me. I am scared that he can do that."

Thrall took in a deep breath as the dragon wiped his eyes.

"He's doing something," said Neltharion. "And I'm horrified." He sniffed. "You're the only one who can get close enough to figure out what he is doing, at least figure out how he's able to hide from me."

"Come on, Neltharion," said Thrall. "Everyone has a right to privacy."

Neltharion wagged his head.

"Listen to me, you can't be spying on everyone you think may be a danger to Azeroth. It isn't right. You have to allow people to have some slack–some moving room. Protect the planet, that is all you do, protect the planet. Move the continents, forge the rivers, uplift the mountains and flatten out the plains. Keep the elementals in check. Let mortals handle mortals. You handle the planet."

Neltharion took in a deep breath, pointing a sharp talon at the orc: "Do not tell me what I am supposed to do as an Aspect. I'm the Earth-Warder, not you!"

"I–was–in a way," said Thrall. "I held your place until you were able to take it back."

"Go'el, the Earth-Warder," said Neltharion in a scoff. "Doesn't have a good ring to it." The Black Dragon stepped back, allowing himself to regain his true, towering size. He spread his wings wide, and the setting sun suddenly gave way to night. "There's more to it than just forging rivers, sculpting mountains, and flattening plains, Thrall. A lot more. I am the Keeper of Secrets as well as the Guardian of Azeroth. And the day that someone figures out how to hide a secret that I cannot keep, then, my job just got a bit more complicated."

The Earth-Warder kicked off the ground and took to the purple sky. Thrall fell back from the gail force of his great wings as the dragon flapped–gaining altitude. The orc rose with a groan and dusted himself off, the grains of sand burning him upon his elbows when he slid into them. He looked back up into the sky as the last light of the setting sun peaked out from the rolling dune horizon, cutting their black surface with orange ribbons. The Earth-Warder had vanished.

* * *

 

Neltharion landed at a sandy cave in Tanaris. Bands of red, gray, and tan decorated the sweeping opening. About the top of the mountains that made up this cave's exterior were fragments buildings, ancient monuments and artifacts of long forgotten history. Outside the doorway were two bronze dragons, guarding vigilantly at the entrance. He slowly began to approach them and stopped right at their bellowing warning. He could sense them shaking disturbingly at his presence, as to be expected due to his great size. He still instilled fear among the other dragonflights. Only his brother and sisters–and Kalecgos–showed no fear when he was around.

"Stay there, Earth-Warder," said one of them. "You have not been invited into the Caverns of Time."

Then, the wind picked up around them as the sand about their feet came to life, echoing a whisper of a voice.

_Let my brother through._

"You heard him," said Neltharion. "Let me through."

They parted and dipped their heads as Neltharion walked through the cave's opening. He walked slowly down a long, enormous corridor of smooth sandstone. He could hear the howl of the wind trapped from within the cavern. Before him was an eerie purple glow. As Neltharion continued on through the caverns, it finally opened up to another world all together. He exited the tunnel and came into the actual caverns, were were not caverns at all, but in fact a pocket dimension that was just displaced from time itself.

One thing Neltharion had to admit, aside from himself, Nozdormu was also the last dragon anyone should ever mess with. Nozdormu, the Time Lord, the keeper of Azeroth's past, present, and future, was the wielder of time displacement, dilation, and time speed. He existed everywhere in time. Neltharion discovered there were in fact thousands of Nozdormus, all in existence due to chance and how fragmented Azeroth's timeline had become.

What if the Black Portal was never opened? There was a Nozdormu there to see it.

What if Old Kalimdor did not break apart? There was a Nozdormu there to see it.

What if Neltharion never became Deathwing? There was a Nozdormu who was there to see it.

However, as Neltharion learned, all those events–it was all apart of a grand plan–a story that was already written from day one when the Titans first came here and reorganized the world. Including the bits about Deathwing, which only made the Black Aspect's blood boil. It all had to happen, no matter what.

Above, Neltharion beheld a dark sky filled with stars and many planets and moons. Streaking through the sky were bands of purple energy and asteroids tumbling along a belt. He stood at the center of an endless desert in a completely different world of constant night. In the sky, he saw the Bronze Dragonflight flying, keeping their vigil of all the events of Azeroth. Strange, alien rock formations that even Neltharion questioned how they were formed, guarded portals to specific events to history and there bronze drakes and dragonspawn took up watch to make sure anyone who came through into the Caverns did not step into the wrong era.

_Come to me, Neltharion._

Neltharion took in a deep breath and then spread his wings, taking off into the stark, eerie, alien sky.

_Follow my voice._

The Black Aspect dipped his head as he flew across the vast desert. Behind him, the tunnel that he came through vanished in the darkness. All he had now was the endless desert and the alien sky. The streaks of purple hummed with a metallic shimmering sound as they arched across the sky. Neltharion paused at the sight of a bright flash and loud thunderous boom. His eyes widened as he saw a star swell up to an enormous size, turning red as it swelled. He could feel the scorching heat upon his scales as it came closer and closer to him. The Black Dragon shielded his face with his paws the bright star blinding his eyes. Then, the star shrank back and exploded in a violent force of hot, fiery gas. Neltharion was suddenly struck to the ground by the force, his eyes shut tightly. He slammed hard upon the sand and covered his stinging body with his wings as the waves of energy washed over him. Then, it was cold, ice cold. Neltharion shivered as he rose from the sand, his breath forming wisps of steam as he gasped for air. He looked down upon himself, noticing widening glowing orange cracks forming along his scales–just as they did when he was Deathwing. But he was not swelling from power–the cracks he had were caused by that star exploding. They stung, throbbed and ached.

But as the night suddenly grew colder, and colder, the glows between the cracks faded. Neltharion could feel it happening, his heart slowing. The magma coursing through his veins began to harden. His heart thumped on painfully, trying to pump the solidifying chunks into his body. His whole body was freezing over, hardening like the rocks he protected. He could feel the core inside his chest growing as it hardened. His eyes slowly began ice over–the only bit of true flesh he had frozen as his body became deathly still.

_Entropy, Neltharion. Do not fear it. It is what will become of all of usss assss we reach to a more sssstable sssstate._

Another bright flash lit up the sky and Neltharion could feel the heat swelling all around him. The searing heat warmed his body and he began to melt. As the heat churned on, his body became molten, glowing a bright, fiery orange. The outside hardened, turning black, like volcanic glass, sealing in the molten, beating core. His features formed again, recognizable, and his beard grew long from his chin. His horns formed, growing long and large from his box-like head. Then, out from his head and spine grew a mane of purple amethyst crystals. Neltharion reached up to touch the crystals, smiling slightly, welcoming them back after so long. He looked whole again. He was slender as well, smaller, younger. He felt so light. Neltharion laughed as he laid upon the sand, a broad grin spreading across his face.

_Jussst wait one bit more..._

But his happiness came to a halt as he felt his body beginning to swell. Neltharion grunted, holding onto himself as his black scales ripped open, revealing the molten core inside–the secret he held but never knew he had until that fated day when Deathwing took over. His chest split open and the lava erupted from the fissure. His body grew to its new size, three times that of what he was prior to the War of the Ancients. Neltharion could hear the sounds of hammers banging against metal and something piercing along his spine and chest. Piece by piece, the elementium armor was bolted upon him, encasing him in metal. Finally, the metal chin was bolted upon his face, the plates fastened to his back and the long bars held his chest together. Neltharion looked about himself, staring with sorrow and horror at his metal prison.

But then, as he looked on, the plates, one by one, began to disappear. His body slimmed out a little, but his size still remain the same. The brace upon his chin disappeared, revealing his flowing black, silky beard. The only armored plates that remained were still bolted to his back, covering his now mangled amethyst crystal mane. Neltharion gasped and leaned upon the sand, shaking from what just happened to him.

"Are you alright, Neltharion?"

The Black Dragon lifted his head and turned around to find a large, Bronze Dragon behind him. The dragon was barely half his size, his hide covered in brassy gold scales. Two teal blue eyes stared up at Neltharion and he smiled slightly. Around his neck was an impossibly long, striped, wooly scarf. Only one dragon wore that ridiculous scarf.

"Nozdormu," said Neltharion. "Big brother."

Nozdormu reared upon his hind legs and spread his forelegs wide, giving his hefty brother a much needed hug. The Bronze Aspect was Neltharion's only remaining brother, since Malygos had died during the Nexus War. Nozdormu, for many thousands of years, had decided to keep himself to his duties, rarely wanting company from the rest of his family. Though, recent events forced him to come out of hiding. Even more so, because Neltharion has returned to him, he wanted to be with his little brother. Malygos and Neltharion shared a deep bond, they were inseparable. And Neltharion was never a stranger when he came to visit Malygos in the north, nor was Malygos a stranger when he came to visit Neltharion deep underground. That is until Deathwing happened. Nozdormu knew he had a long time to even reach to that level, but he hoped to begin the first step. So, he made himself promise that he would always visit Neltharion.

They held each other close, not even saying anything, but then, Nozdormu let go.

"Be careful when you're here, little brother," he said.

"What was that?" Neltharion asked.

"Time on disssplay," said Nozdormu. "Even we cannot escape it." He patted the Earth-Warder's chest. "I'm ssso glad you came to visit. And I kept my promise, didn't I?"

"Coming to visit me as often as you can," said Neltharion. "I know. And for me to do the same."

"You are welcomed here," said Nozdormu. "Even if my flight doesn't think ssso."

"I'm glad you knew I was coming."

"I alwaysss do," he said. "And I sssaw what happened in the desert."

Neltharion took in a deep breath: "I need your advise, Nozdormu."

"Excellent! I've waited long for you to say those wordsss."

"Nozdormu," said Neltharion. "Something is happening."

"I know."

Neltharion shifted: "Garrosh is hiding something from me. I can't see what he's doing."

"I know."

"Can you tell me what it is?" he asked. "How is he able to–"

"I am sssorry, Neltharion," said Nozdormu. "I'm not going to play exposition dragon today. What Garrosh is doing, unfortunately, you will have to find out for yourssself."

"What?"

"Listen to me," he began, resting a claw upon Neltharion's chest. "Time is fragile right now. A great event will occur and it will waken those who have been asssleep for a long time. You mussst allow this event to happen, or Azeroth will never be truly prepared."

"The sleepers-must-awaken and a what now?" Neltharion asked. "Have you been dabbing in the spice again? I smell cinnamon on you."

"What I'm trying to sssay, dear brother," began Nozdormu. "If you run off right now, and attack Garrosh with nothing to go on, you will drive a chasm between you and everyone in Azeroth. You, Neltharion, because of who you are now–who you interact with–who you know–have the power to make or break everything. You have the power to bring everyone together–join their hearts with your own and see to it that the greater threat will not destroy this world. But if you act now, if you travel down this paranoid road and attack the Horde for nothing than your own ssselfish reasons–no one will stand behind you."

"Selfish?" he asked. "They have my children!"

"They have some of them," said Nozdormu. "They don't have them all, do they? I know it hurts, they are members of your flight–but you must let them go for now. The Dragonmaw will get what they deserve, trusst me. The day will come–and when it comes, you will have everyone on thisss planet behind you to ssstop them. But before that happensss–all of Azeroth mussst sssee Garrosh and his followers for what they are. And to do that, a terrible event must happen. And an Aspect, for the first time–will truly have to take a side in this war. This Horde and Alliance War–it's a war that keeps Azeroth separated. And we Aspects cannot just stand by and allow it to continue. But–if any of us were to step in now, we would be doing the wrong thing. However, you–you who's wife is the last heir to Lordaeron, who's friends with the Lady of Theramore, who mentor the Prince of Stormwind, and who calls himself brother to the former Warchief of the New Horde, and has gained the respect of many–whether you see it or not. They will be looking to you. But if you attack Garrosh and his Dragonmaw for what you saw at that meeting, you will lose all the respect you gained over these two years."

Neltharion took in a deep breath, bowing his head.

"So, I was right, Garrosh is planning something terrible," said the Black Aspect.

"Did I say the event was his fault?" Nozdormu asked. "But hisss actions afterwards–that is what will make or break this world. But don't let your paranoia drive you to do something you will regret. Believe me, you'll regret it."

Neltharion wagged his head.

"Don't worry, you won't be alone," said Nozdormu. "You'll have help, and a new friend. Hopefully you won't jussst consider him a replacement for an old friend. Because of your fractured memories, and your second chance, it ssseems you've become younger than you were prior to the War of the Ancients. The wrinkles of nearly 70 thousand years of life have been lifted away. Because of that, Neltharion, he is much closer to your age than the rest of ussss."

Neltharion tilted his head: "So, what you're saying is instead of being in my late 60s, I'm 10 again? I'm a–kid?"

"What I wouldn't do to have at least 40 thousand years lifted from me," said Nozdormu with a chuckle. "Consider yourself lucky you're the only one of us who managed to find the Fountain of Youth."

"I'm 10."

"You're brash and unpredictable, prone to some minor tantrumssss, and always wanting to have your way no matter what. And you seem to believe your fists can solve all your problems. That is not the Neltharion I remember–at least the Neltharion you became prior to Deathwing. However, you were much like that when you were just coming to ten thousandssss or so years. Brash, unreasonable, prone to fits of anger, and trying to solve all your problems with brute force."

Neltharion sighed, rolling upon the sand: "I don't wanna hear anymore."

"I did ssssay if only we all could be so lucky to have found the Fountain of Youth," said Nozdormu, placing his claw upon Neltharion's shoulder.

"That Fountain is spending ten thousand years trapped inside while some parasite controls my body and attempts to destroy the world," said Neltharion. Then, he raised his head. "I wonder if when I finally redeem you from being Murozond, that you'll get your youth back as well?"

Nozdormu sighed and wagged his head. His eyes became downcast, his wings drooped upon the sand.

"I told you, Neltharion," he began. "My fate is sssealed. You could be saved, but I cannot. And you will be the one to call upon the people who will put an end to my evil. All the more reason for you to gain the trust of the masses."

Neltharion rose from the sand and took hold of his brother's shoulder.

"I have to figure out how to save you, big brother," he said.

"It is as you said once," Nozdormu began. "You can't save everyone."

The Earth-Warder lowered his head and a tear dropped from his eyelid, splashing upon the sand. Nozdormu turned around and leaned into his brother's arms. Neltharion extended his wings and wrapped his brother up in them.

"Believe me, I know the pain of losing family," said Nozdormu. "Each day, I lose more and more of my flight to the Infinite. Each day, I sssee more and more of them mutating and changing. And then–the day will come and I will be alone. Then, it will happen to me." He looked up at his younger brother. "You and I–we were made so different. Made to be the ones to carry our burdens. What joys our brother and sisters had–life, dreams, magic, when we are partitioners of entropy, the embodiment of what our fathers made us for. Norgannon and Eonar–they never did what Aman'Thul and Khaz'goroth did–they never built them around their powers."

Neltharion dipped his head.

"Tell me, little brother," Nozdormu began. "Ssssomething I've always wanted to know about you. What piece of Khaz'goroth did the Maker of Worlds clone to create you with?"

Neltharion let go of his brother and then pointed up at his eyes.

"You ever wanted to know why other black dragons have orange or yellow eyes, except for me?" he asked. "Why are my eyes green? My eyes are my father's eyes."

"They do not look like the eyes a dragon would have," said Nozdormu. "But the eyes of a Titan."

"What piece did Aman'Thul clone to make you with?"

"Hisss vocal cordsss."

"Your voice is Aman'Thul's voice?" Neltharion asked.

"Yesss."

"Does he have the lisp too?"

"No, he didn't have the lisssp!" Nozdormu said with a snort at Neltharion's rather innocent question. "And if my father didn't make me with thisss huge tongue, I would truly sssound just like him."

"Why did he give you that lisp?" asked Neltharion.

"Dessspite what people tend to think about the leader of the Pantheon," began Nozdormu. "He pridesss himself on his practical jokessss. Each time I sspeak, I can hear my father laughing."

"Ouch," said Neltharion. He sighed as he looked away. "The only memories I have of my father is him looking at me with this disgruntled frown–as if when he looked on me, he saw every failure I was about to make. And then I would see that face of his looking at me and I could swear him saying: 'I knew that kid of mine was a waste of effort and resources.'"

Nozdormu nodded: "Seems like both our fathers are basically assholes."

"Yep."

"Yep."

They stood in silence, just looking up at the swirling starry sky. Only the sound of the wind blowing over the dunes provided the noise upon this silence. Then, Nozdormu looked back at Neltharion and tapped him upon the shoulder.

"Come on, there's a tavern in Tanaris that sells Ssspice Beer," he began. "You should try some. It will knock you flat."

"I knew you were hitting the spice again," said Neltharion.

"What can I say?" asked Nozdormu. "It's rather addicting. Come on. I'm buying."

Neltharion chuckled: "My wife would kill me if I come waddling back to Theramore blind-stinking drunk." He paused and looked up at the starry sky again. "And claiming I can see the future."

"Don't worry, you can take a nap in the Cavernsss," said Nozdormu. "Besssides, after what happened today, you look like you need a good, ssstiff drink."

"You don't know how much," said Neltharion.

"I should treat you to thissss new brand of green cocktail they've got at the tavern," said Nozdormu. "Ssssome of my dragons have been coming home after drinking the ssstuff, they couldn't move for a week."

"Sounds tempting," said Neltharion. "What's it called?"

"Ryncol," said Nozdormu.

"Never heard of it," said Neltharion.

"I haven't either," he said. "But whatever it isss, it's powerful. They sssaid they got it from a bunch of kodo-looking humanoidsss who crash-landed much like the Draenei did up north. The travelers traded some parts for the drink and repaired their ship–and then off they went."

"Azeroth's a giant space magnet to attract just about every alien in the universe," said Neltharion. "But if this drink is as good as you say it is–I think I'm going to take some of it home with me."

"It is," said Nozdormu. "No mortal could ssssurvive the drink, but it's perfect for us dragons."

Neltharion grinned. He could not wait until he could drink this horrible day into obscurity. The two dragons walked on, heading back towards the entrance, smiling as they talked.

Just two brothers.


	3. III

**III**

The dry air tickled his nose, the scorching sun was a delight to his skin. He turned at the sound of a kodo roaring as it passed him. His chest swelled with pride, his men ready to taste the blood of Alliance Soldiers.

Garrosh Hellscream's warriors, the might of the Horde, thundered through the Northern Barrens. The ground vibrated with the heavy trek. Dust rose up behind them as they file their way down the Gold Road. Weeks of marching, scouting, and they trekked on through roaring across the Great Divide and passing the Overgrowth, on into the Southern Barrens. Another three days of marching as they gathered their forces from Ratchet. Behind them laid the Stagnant Oasis and the burnt black scar that was once the Great Divide.

One year ago, Neltharion trekked across the Barrens to the Crossroads. As he trekked across the Barrens, he came upon the Great Divide, a fiery chasm he created as the maddened Dragon Aspect Deathwing. During his grief of causing such destruction during the Cataclysm, Neltharion called upon the powers granted to him by the Titans and ground quaked. Lava rose up between the cracks, and then cooled to a black scar, closing the Divide. Garrosh heard of this news from many Thunder Bluff Tauren druids who sat and watched the Earth-Warder perform this miracle. However, the Warchief was not moved by the Aspects attempts to heal the land he shattered two years prior. The Divide's healing now provided a strategic path again, no longer separating the Barrens in two. Because of the Aspect's foolish need to erase all Deathwing had done, Neltharion provided Garrosh with the means to walk safely into the Alliance-controlled Southern Barrens without having to go around. Forward Command soon proved to be easy pickings after all of the Horde's armies convened over the scar. For that, Garrosh decided to give the scar a new name, Blood's Shadow's Ignorance. How stupid it was for Neltharion to provide the Horde a clear path to his home. Garrosh will knock upon the door of the Earth-Warder with Gorehowl in hand and the Aspect would be so dimwitted to let him in. Guards at each check point had waved them through as they made their way south. Dry brush was trampled flat by the steel, tanks riding along side the kodo. Field reconnaissance vehicles, stolen from a few Alliance base raids, leapt over the rocky hills, followed raptor riders. Garrosh turned his head to the sound of a trumpet as the legion continued to make its way down the road. The mesas trembled, the brush waved. It seemed all of the Northern Barrens trembled before the might of Garrosh Hellscream. He looked to the sky at the sound of a screech and found a flight of Windrunners above on one side, and Zaela's Dragonmaw black drakes on the other.

The black drakes.

He place no trust in them. In fact, he argued against the Dragonmaw using them because they came from his hated enemy's own seed. But the former Twilight Hammers carefull informed him that drake mounts born from the loins of an Aspect would guarantee a strong mount. And they provided the Dragonmaw with the materials they took from Deathwing, when he was with the Twilight Hammers.

Garrosh has benefited much from the Dark Shamans that came to him from the now debunked Twilight Hammers faction. Deathwing had taught them secrets that no Shaman could ever learn within their lifetimes. And when they came to the Horde, they had these tributes ready for Garrosh to inspect. The Shamans from the Twilight Hammers could manipulate the elements without the need of totems or calling upon the spirits. Garrosh looked beyond the lines to see several of the Dark Shamans up in front, manipulating the elements as the army continued its march. They waved their hands, stamped their feet, and the echo of their vibrations countered the noise the army was making.

Deathwing had taught them to be connected to the elements through the energy of their bodies. Though Garrosh hated Neltharion, he realized the Aspect had some unique tricks, and now so does the Horde.

Behind the advancing legion, and to the sides, and of course the front, the Shamans worked their special skills. These Shamans were specialized in the element of earth. The Twilight Hammers learned that Neltharion could see through the rock using sound vibrations. And there was no doubt that the Earth-Warder could very well hear the great thunderous sound Garrosh's legion was making through the Barrens as they made their way south towards Theramore. One signal Neltharion had was all the Aspect needed and he would be there within minutes to stop Garrosh in his plans. So, the Warchief had to out smart the Earth-Warder by using his own powers against him. With the help of the Shamans that Neltharion has personally trained while under the control of the Old Gods, Garrosh would make it to Theramore and the Earth-Warder would be none the wiser.

However, making it to Theramore before the Earth-Warder realized it was not entirely the plan.

Garrosh was well aware that the Earth-Warder was not at home. Due to some ingenious methods from his shamans, Garrosh was able to distract the Earth-Warder away from Theramore.

"You are not the only one who can command the planet, Deathwing," Garrosh said to himself with a grin.

As the sun began to set, the Horde rested. Garrosh walked out to the front of the camp, looking out over the troops. A line of campfires spread out over a mile and dotted the low lying hills like monstrous fireflies. They flickered in the clinging dark silhouette of the paper cut out landscape. An idle roar of a prairie cat twitched his ear off in the distance, as it caught its dinner for the night. Garrosh's golden eyes glowed with the hot fire and thirst for Alliance blood.

The fat dragon was away...

Far away, rescuing a small town from a raging volcano. And then, he and the Earthen Ring called a meeting. The Warchief turned, hearing the sound of a low trumpet warbling. The watch guards signaled an approaching flier. Garrosh looked up to find two dragon riders landing near him. He heard the sounds of their drakes squawk as they landed. He could see the hot glow of their orange eyes as they stared blankly at him. The two riders dismounted.

"As you ordered, Warchief," one of them said. "We report to you only."

"And what do you have to report?" asked Garrosh.

"The Earth-Warder chased us away before the meeting started," said one of the riders.

"But he was there," said Garrosh.

"Yes."

"He saw your drakes and got very angry," said Garrosh, as if he knew exactly what transpired.

The two riders nodded.

"I wonder what Thrall had to say about it."

"Thrall told the Earth-Warder not to persue the matter any further," said the harsh voice of a female orc. Garrosh turned, his thick grin growing. He found Zaela, Warlord of the Dragonmaw, land right beside him. Her large black drake snorted as she dismounted. "And Deathwing is only more furious. People at the meeting have heard the Worldbreaker threatening Thrall."

"He Threatened Thrall!" said Garrosh, the news only filling him with more glee. "Threatened Thrall, nearly attacked you two, and my distraction with the volcano worked! Where is the Aspect of Twinkies now?"

"The scouters in Uldum reported he was visiting the Caverns of Time," said Zaela. "And he has not left. He's been there for the last week."

Garrosh took in deep breath. He walked out between the gray skinned orcs, looking between them.

"Tell your scouters to can an eye on him," he said. "I want to know when he returns to Theramore."

"Garrosh, there is no way we will be able to move the army through fast enough," said Zaela. "Considering the Earth-Warder's flight speed."

Garrosh grunted a reply, though his tone seemed rather unconcerned. He was uncharacteristically calm in all of this. He walked down the line of campfires, the glow sparkling in his piercing golden eyes. Zaela followed him, her drake pulled along side her by its reigns. He heard the jingle of the elementium chain clank against her breasts. The chain, an item that once held Neltharion's most powerful weapon, the Demon Soul. The chain had the power to control the minds of dragons, but not the minds of the Aspects. Only theirs were stronger.

"He'll be home before we even reach Theramore," continued Zaela.

"I want him to be there, Warlord," said Garrosh. "I want Deathwing there when we break the gates of Theramore."

"Having an Aspect on their side," began Zaela. "He will tear through our ranks like tissue paper! The battle would be over before it even began."

Garrosh sniffed at her statement, his brow ridge only twitched to indicate some concern. Then, he wagged his head, only smiling and shrugging off her warning.

"I am well aware of what he can do," he said. "However, Deathwing is not aware of what I can do to him."

"And what is that?"

"Oh, my little surprise to celebrate the return of a Dragon Aspect to the right side," he said as he continued to walk through the camp. Garrosh chuckled darkly.

"I would like to know."

"You will. But for now, I suggest you and your Dragonmaw stay close to me. I don't want you harmed."

Zaela bowed her head: "Of course, Warchief."

Garrosh approached a hide tent covered in large, furry pelts. There General Nazgrim was discussing battle plans with various orc generals. Beside him was Malkorok, Garrosh's personal bodyguard. Swamped around the tent were various platoons of Kor'kron, serving as special operations for Garrosh Hellscream. The glow of the torch light lit the map of Kalimdor rolled out on tan, splotchy parchment , though Garrosh kicked himself for not bringing the hard-light map his special forces snatched from an Alliance encampment a little ways north. However, he knew that his secret project service men needed that map more than he did. The green skinned orc turned to his Warchief and thumped his chest.

"Lok'tar," he said.

Garrosh dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"General Nazgrim," began the Warchief. "I want the men well rested tonight. At dawn, the army moves south. And I want them moving as fast as the wind!"

"I will personally crack the whip myself," said Nazgrim.

"You intend to beat Deathwing to Theramore?" Malkorok asked, realizing why Garrosh was in such a hurry to make it south.

"No," said Garrosh. "I want him there. I want our friendly neighborhood Earth-Warder there to defend his home valiantly! Let him do so. I just want to make sure we are far enough across the Barrens that there will be nothing he can do about it. I want to be at Northwatch Hold and have it under our control before anyone in Theramore is wise to our advance."

Nazgrim grinned a toothy grin.

"The ships," began Garrosh. "From Ratchet. Where are they now?"

"The Trade Prince has sent his finest down the coast as we speak," said Nazgrim. "They are just about off the coastal trench. However, the ones from Silvermoon will not be in Kalimdor for another week. However, they may run a Theramore shore before us."

"If they do, I want them just off shore and well out of sight of their coastal artillery," said Garrosh. "Wait until they receive the radioed order from me."

"Yes, sir," said Nazgrim.

"I do need a few Horde ships along the shores of Northwatch Hold," said Garrosh. "Ready to break their stone walls down!"

"Yes, sir."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he began. "I must see to the other men. Malkorok, if you will follow me."

"Of course, Warcheif," said the Commander of the Kor'kron.

As Garrosh and his bodyguard disappeared into the night, Zaela turned to Nazgrim.

"Does he seem different to you?" she asked.

"He is collective and deadly," said Nazgrim. "None of s can afford to be rash or hesitant right now. We are about to send a message to the Alliance. Not even their precious Earth-Warder can help them!" He slammed his fists together. "There will be nothing but the Horde left in this world. We will crush the Alliance!"

Everyone in the tent echoed his enthusiasm. Fists thrusted forward and his commanders cheered. Nazgrim nodded to his men, a smirk growing upon his lips. Zaela kept her silence, but she did have a swell of pride at the thought of the Horde being victorious over the Alliance. Garrosh planned to drive all Alliance forces out of Kalimdor completely, starting with Theramore. Though, Zaela's own expression fell a bit when she thought about the Earth-Warder whom Garrosh still refers to as Deathwing. She touched the elementium chain jingling upon her neck. That chain she wore had absorb much energy from when Deathwing's Demon Soul was tied to it. She recalled barely a year ago, she saw Deathwing as he was––Neltharion––the redeemed Earth-Warder. He looked so different than he did when he broke out of Deepholm. He was not splitting in twain, oozing his lava-like blood out of fissures along his black scales. A long beard replaced the ghastly elementium brace bolted to his chin and his eyes were the color of emeralds, sparkling green with a slight tint of aquamarine blue towards his rather round, black irises. He had the oddest looking eyes for a dragon, especially a black dragon. Black dragons, even the drake she rode upon, all had slit, fiery orange eyes or red eyes, or gold eyes. Not Neltharion. His eyes did not glow either, rather they reflected the light, sparkling like a faceted jewel would in the sun.

Though it was not how his eyes looked that bothered her the most, it was what she was carrying with her as they marched on down towards Theramore.

The last link to the Demon Soul.

He had the Demon Soul with him when she saw him that day. Some how he plucked it from time itself and there it was around his neck on the same chain she wore now. She wondered; _did Neltharion have the Demon Soul with him still?_

If he did, she knew this long march to Theramore will end with a sudden, painful, stop. Still, having the Earth-Warder on their side and Garrosh wanting him there during the fight, it did not seem like a tactful plan. The Earth-Warder––or rather the Destroyer, was capable of shattering the world. It did not matter what part of the planet he was on, he could hit the other side with the force that indeed turns rocks into sand without him even being on the opposite side. He shattered the planet while resting in another dimension. Deathwing, even without his Demon Soul, was a dangerous foe to face. She walked out from under the tent and looked upon the see of campfires. The thought of Deathwing stilled her heart in ice. All he would have to do is open the ground up and allow Azeroth itself swallow the army. Then, it would be over in less than a second. Having Neltharion there, the Horde was walking into a slaughter. It was better if he stayed in Tanaris, completely ignorant to Garrosh's march.

Zaela shook her head, holding tightly to her chain.

Still, Garrosh seemed confident. He walked towards the front of the line where his specialized shamans were. They stamped their feet in rhythmic sounding. They sent their pulse rippling through the rock, creating the stealth cloak that kept his army march hidden from Deathwing. He looked to one of the shamans and then called out.

"Is Deathwing still in Tanaris?"

The shamans stopped their stomping and filed out several paces away from the rim of the army. Then, they stomped the ground, their feet hitting the rusty desert at the same time as if each shaman was just a single piece that made up of one shaman. Then they swept their feet across the ground, kicking up the dust underneath. The dirt hung there about their feet for a moment and then lowered. Then they duck, sliding their left feet forward and thrusted their fists into the sand. Garrosh waited silently, as the shamans rose from the ground and turned to face him.

"He is," replied an orc shaman.

"Good," said Garrosh. "Keep me posted."

He dipped his head and walked away from them.

"They will not be happy with the plan," said another shaman. "What you intend to rise. Even our cloaking method will fail once we summon them. The Earth-Warder will hear their cries and he will come for us. They will call him––and he will kill us."

"Apparently you all really don't know the Earth-Warder like I do," said Garrosh with a slight smirk. "I swear, I have never met anyone as pathetically stupid as he is. Neltharion will see them and will try to figure out in what position should he scratch his own ass."

The shamans looked to each other, passing rather hesitant glances. Then, they looked to Garrosh.

"He's retarded," said Garrosh. "Special? Mentally incompetent. Missing half his brain cells."

"We get it," said the Shaman. "He's stupid."

"I wonder if he takes one look at the molten giants and wonder if he could fry a hotdog on them," said Garrosh. "And then ask whether or not he should walk on his forepaws so he can eat the hotdog with his hind paws. And then completely forgetting that he could in fact fry the hotdog himself with his own lava blood." The Warchief shook his head. "Very, very stupid." He took in a deep breath, looking out over the starry sky. "But more I hear about him, the more I realize his moral convictions will stay his feet. That is why I have nothing to fear of the Earth-Warder. He is an idealist. He wants us all to live together in peace and harmony. He believes he can bring that about, plucking every flower he comes along and wishing upon them." Garrosh's golden eyes narrowed. "He really isn't Deathwing anymore. He's all sunshine and paisley pink fields now." He then sneered in disgust. "Makes my stomach turn each time I hear all about it. I much rather hear about Deathwing and what he's doing to destroy the world than Neltharion's trifle belief that all we need is a hug and that'll fix this war. He's a jelly-backed coward too damned afraid of his own shadow to go against my army. Too afraid of himself. He wants us all to be his friend now, so he can't hurt us. He can't hurt any of us. Neltharion won't lift a finger to stop you, Shamans, you have nothing to fear. He doesn't want the world to still see him as Deathwing, so he goes out of his way to prove that he is not." He leaned upon his heels and crossed his bulging, muscular arms. "Take a breather and rest your feet. If Neltharion's so drunk he's passed out on Tanaris, he'll be too drunk to even notice us once we start moving again. He's a thousand miles below the equator."

"Yes, Warchief," said the shaman.

Garrosh turned away, heading back with his trusted bodyguard towards his command tent. Malkorok looked to his leader, his rusty eyes focusing upon the huge tusks of the Pit Lord Mannoroth Garrosh bore upon his shoulders.

"We are still have 235 miles to trek to Northwatch Hold," said Malkorok. "And another thousand to Theramore."

Garrosh grunted: "I'll get my mages to open a portal large enough to get us there a bit faster. I want my warriors to be at their peak, not skulking around due to fatigue." He turned back to his bodyguard. "Have every Blood Elf and Forsaken awake at the crack of dawn and charging their mana cashes. This will be a very long jump."

"By your word, Warchief," he said.

As the warriors all settled down for the sleep, one kept his eyes open, watching intently as Garrosh entered his command tent. Baine Bloodhoof, Chieftain of the Thunderbluff Tauren of Mulgore. There, he sat at a dimming campfire beside Vol'Jin, a mixture of Thunderbluff Tauren and Darkspear Trolls sat around beside them. Vol'Jin looked to the broadly muscular, black-furred Tauren who had his hand upon an intricate, golden hammer. Baine turned away as Garrosh closed the flap to his tent and the chieftain sat back down to the fire, staring at the hammer, his chestnut-colored eyes glazed over with contempt.

"I saw dhat shrew Malkorok before we left Orgrimmar," began Vol'Jin. "He and his Kor'kron dragged a couple orcs out of dhe city. Executed for having an opinion."

Baine shook his head.

"Yeah," he said.

"I think now we here, marchin a thousand miles to Theramore, blisters on our toes, Garrosh hopes we get lost in dhe fight."

"He needs us to keep the loyalty of our people with the Horde," said Baine.

"Dhe Horde stood for freedom, mon," said Vol'Jin. "I help make it what it is, and it bites me back in dhe ass. And you––Garrosh killed your father, pissed off Thrall. He don't ever want to return after dhis mess. And here we are marching down to a city who––a few times opened its doors to welcome us. Why? Because of Deathwing? Because Garrosh wants all of Kalimdor?"

"Both," said Baine. "He wants Neltharion's head sitting right beside his son Nefarian's on the wall of Orgrimmar, and all of Kalimdor to bow before him. But from what I understand from Thrall, killing Neltharion is liable to create something worse than the Cataclysm. He is the heart of the Earth Mother––to kill her heart would kill her as well."

"What does Garrosh Hellscream care?" Vol'jin asked. "The world he and his people come from is still nothing more dhan a floating piece of rock––and a lot of it still very livable. If that be dhe fate of Azeroth, Garrosh will be there to claim the little pieces of livable rocks for his own."

"The last thing I wish is for my home to be nothing more than a fractured, piece of floating rock in the dark void," said Baine. "Hellscream is making a terrible mistake if he wants to cross that Black Dragon." He lowered his head into his hands. "Garrosh wants to strike against Theramore, Neltharion's home is Theramore, and once we are there––all he would have to do is wash us away with a tidal wave or open the earth up and allow it to swallow us, or send us spiraling away with a cyclone, or burn us with lava. And that would be the end of Garrosh's plans to take down Theramore. And the end of us." He looked back to Vol'jin. "I do not want to fight that dragon." He wagged his head. "None of us want to face that dragon."

"Well, dhe good news is he's still in Tanaris," said Vol'jin. "A little over 3 thousand miles away from us."

"One of my Tauren working for the Earthen Ring ran into a gnome one day," began Baine. "This little gnome was absolutely fascinated with just how powerful Deathwing was––and how powerful Neltharion is. One of his little musings was how fast that dragon could in fact fly. He said it was close to 600 miles per hour––and that was what he called cruising speed. He said Neltharion could fly faster than that if he wanted. In fact, when we all discovered what became of Deathwing during the fight in Northrend, what Thrall did to bring the Earth-Warder back––it only took him half a day to fly from Wyrmrest to Orgrimmar. But that was with breaks. Non stop, the gnome said he could fly from one end of Kalimdor to the other in a little under 12 hours."

Vol'jin turned slowly away as he heard his Trolls whisper among themselves, a touch of fear crawling up their spines.

"What would take us probably a few months at best on foot, it would take him under six hours to reach to Theramore from Tanaris," said Baine. "It takes a good flying mount a couple of days to travel that distance. Even less if the Dragonmaw rode upon those black drakes of theirs. By the time we are there, ready to face down the Alliance forces in Theramore, Neltharion would not only have seen us coming, but be wiping us all out before we made it into the swamp. He would be there, and that'll be it." He looked down upon the hammer again. "Maybe if we're lucky, the ancestors willing––Garrosh will be among those swallowed up by earth. And we can try to pick up the pieces left behind––whatever is left of the Horde after the Earth-Warder decimates most of it."

"Chieftain," began a Tauren to Baine's left. "Pardon, but you forget––a Dragon Aspect cannot involve itself in the war between the Alliance and the Horde. It is not their business to fight our battles."

"Dhen, let us hope dhe Earth-Warder remembers that vow," said Vol'jin.

Baine shook his head, the beads in his braided mane jingling against each other.

"Would you stay out of a fight when you find the only place you can call home––the only place where people at least are being courteous to you despite all that you've done in the past––is suddenly attacked?" he asked. "He'd be a coward if he wasn't there to help the Alliance defend Theramore from us. It's his home. I wouldn't expect anything less from any of us if we ever faced an Alliance attack upon our homes. Of course we would defend it."

"Dhat be true, mon," said Vol'jin. "Dhen, let us hope dhat he stays down in Tanaris."

Baine shook his head again: "Coming home to find it ravaged will only make it worse for us. I'm sorry to say, but when dealing with something like that particular dragon, there is no good way this is going to end."

The Troll Chieftain crossed his arms, his face twisting in distraught under the skull-like war paint upon his face.

"Dhen, I hope Thrall be telling Neltharion good things about me," he said. "Because dhat is the only way I can see myself gettin' out of dhis massacre alive."

Bain returned to staring down upon the war hammer he wielded, its intricate engravings and glowing blue runes returning his thoughts to deep meditation. He looked upon it with scorn, not for the weapon itself, which had served him well when he fought to reclaim his lands from the Grimtotems, but the reflection he saw in it. It was his own reflection. However, he could still feel the soothing energies flowing out from the hammer, still telling him that it liked him. For a moment, he thought the hammer was telling him that it forgives him for what he was about to do. That was the reason for the scorn.

Fearbreaker, the hammer was called, a gift from Prince Anduin, who earned it from King Magni Bronzebeard of Ironforge. Anduin, in an act of friendship, bestowed it to Baine to help calm his own aching heart over the assassination of his father Cairne. Anduin, Prince of Stormwind, the enemy as Garrosh many times quoted, was there to help when many had turned away. And then there was Jaina, who sent support to help him avenge his father's death and bring down Magatha and the Grimtotems. She showed him kindness, and how was he going to repay that kindness? He was going to march on Theramore and raze it to the ground.

That was not the honorable way to repay kindness.

"You drifting again, mon," said Vol'jin.

"Just thinking about the past," said Baine. "I made a promise to repay the debt my people owe to the Horde. I pledge my loyalty to it. And I will never turn away from it. But––"

"But, Garrosh Hellscream."

"Does he speak for the Horde?" Baine asked.

"Let me give you a simple word of advice," began Vol'jin. "I wish to survive dhis, survive Neltharion, and survive Garrosh's war. And how I intend to do dhat––by keeping to me own business. So, let's not worry about the extremely powerful enemy we will face a hundred leagues away from us––worry about the ally who may very well have both our heads if we question any further. We may know what Neltharion is capable of doing, but what exactly is Garrosh capable of? And he is only a few feet away from us, mon."

Baine said nothing, but only nodded. He rose from his seat, his eyes upon the campfire, which was barely burning, orange ashes surrounded by a circle of stones. He turned back to his teepee, opening the flap, craving the cold darkness of sleep to help calm his nerves.

So, the camps rested, tanks cooling from their long drive across the Barrens. Goblins filled their fuel tanks before turning in. The twin moons arched over head and the only sound were the crickets upon the dry grass. As the night swiftly turned by, the dawn peeped out from the hills lining the narrow shore to the east. The sky was aglow of pale yellow and one by one, the stars disappeared. Then, the quiet of the dawn was broken by the sounds of revelry from horns, wakening the troops. Garrosh came out from his tent, taking a deep breath of the dry savannah air.

He began to gather his mages and shamans. Walking up behind him came Baine and Vol'jin, rousing their people for another day's long, tiring trek. Garrosh turned to them, his tattooed face curling with a frightening grin. General Nazgrim came to his Warchief, looking out over the vast army, taking note of them eating their breakfast rations and packing up their tents. He heard the sounds of tank and truck engines revving up, growling awake and black smoke puffing out from exhaust pipes. Kodo growled as the warriors strapped supplies upon their backs. Zaela and her black drake riders were already mounted. A Forsaken came to Garrosh, bowing, its glowing, deathly yellow eyes focusing upon the Warchief.

"For us to make this spacial rift, we need visual coordinates," he said in a soft, raspy voice, the dangling rotting flesh flapping around his neck as he spoke. "Where do you want us to portal the army to?"

"Ten miles from Northwatch Hold," said Garrosh.

"Why not just at Northwatch?" asked Nazgrim.

"Because the Alliance will be picking the fireteams off one by one as they come through the portal," said Garrosh. "However, the second half of my plan is having a squadron teleported on the southwestern side of Northwatch Hold."

"Attacking our enemy from behind with a small squadron," said Nazgrim. "Of course. The Alliance's pathetic little fort is facing northeast, expecting that most likely of attacks would be coming from that direction. Their backside is rather unprotected."

"Exactly," said Garrosh.

Baine took in a deep breath and then raised a hand. Garrosh's thick brow perked up.

"Yes?"

"You are going to mass teleport the entire army to Northwatch?" Baine asked.

"Yes."

"Can mages produce a portal large enough to send the entire army through?"

"One mage cannot," replied the Forsaken. "However, we have many mages."

"Shamans!" said Garrosh, raising his hands up. "See a safe path to Northwatch Hold!"

Just like they did last night, the shamans began to rhythmically stamp their feet upon the ground. They swept their feet and knelt to the ground placing their hands down to feel the vibrations echoing back.

Garrosh returned his gaze to Nazgrim: "When you send out the squadron to go behind the hold, I want them to begin taking out the Alliance's communication relays. I don't want them chirping for help to Theramore. It'll spoil the surprise."

"I love surprises," said Nazgrim.

"Warlord Zaela," said Garrosh. "Take your drake riders and circle around Northwatch, take out their artillery batteries."

"Their artillery batteries are going to be a trifle to deal with, Warchief," she said.

"Don't get shot," said Garrosh.

"How foolish of me of not thinking about that plan before."

The shamans parted to allow the mages to spread out among them. The mages began chanting. All regiments stood at attention, waiting in silence anticipation for perhaps the largest portal to ever be opened up in the history of this world, perhaps larger than the Black Portal that once lead the Old Horde to begin conquering this land nearly 30 years ago. Zaela looked to Garrosh as she mounted upon her black drake.

"One question I must ask, Warchief," she said.

"Yes?" Garrosh turned back to her.

"Would opening such a portal––would it harm this world?"

"How do you mean?"

"Ner'zhul tried to open many enormous portals on Draenor," said Zaela. "And it destroyed our homeworld."

Garrosh chuckled and said in a dismissing tone: "Do not fret about that. The difference between what he did and what I am doing is very simple. He tried to open vast portals to other worlds all at the same time, I'm opening up one vast portal from one spot on Azeroth to another. There might be some small explosion as the portal closes, but let that be a visual reminder of the power the Horde now possesses! And all will tremble in fear!" He looked to Baine and Vol'jin. "When we finally take the Hold, I wish for us to set up a command outpost at the Hold itself. From there, I shall guide our troops onward to Theramore."

"Of course, Warchief," said Vol'jin, passing a subtle, but rather disapproving glance at Baine. The Tauren chieftain sniffed, agreeing with the look.

"Then, the next phase will begin," said Garrosh.

As the sun began its waxing arch towards noon, a new light, brighter than it sparked along the Southern Barrens. The light grew outward and upward, forming a blue-white ring around a dark, star-filled, flat circle. Arcane energy radiated out from the ring as it settled itself and the ring settled as a semicircle along the flat plains. Garrosh mounted upon his black, great wolf and the horns sounded for the march through. Zaela and her drake riders took to the sky, following the path of the windrunners through the portal.

A sea of warriors and land craft and kodo all filed their way through, their bodies igniting the portal with a spark of white. From first to last, they went until all was left of the army were smoldering ashes of their campfires and the portal itself. Then, the portal closed behind them in a snap and a whoosh, collapsing into a singular point. The point of light flashed and exploded forth in a raging shockwave that trembled the land, flattening the dry brush and the savannah umbrella trees; cracking the bedrock of the hills flanking it. Then, the wind rushed back towards the explosion with the same gale force it had when it exploded outward. The dust arched upwards towards the sky, filling it in rusty red and sickly yellow, creating an oddly shaped cloud. If there had been anyone left to see this cloud, they would say it looked almost like a mushroom.

This war that Garrosh was waging, this war was going to be a different sort of war indeed. To combat a monster who could very well crush his army under its feet, he had to up the ante. He was not going to hold anything back.

But the explosion sent a tremor through the rock, a shockwave downward into the crust and then through the plastic-like hot mantle, only to ripple the liquid outer core and bounce off the solid inner core. As the shockwave traveled back out, it finally came to call one who could understand its message. In his stupor, he awoke, feeling the sand vibrate under the pads of his black talons. A week or so had passed since he came to rest in his brother's cavern. And as he rose from the sand, Neltharion finally spoke.

"What the hell just happened?"

Though, the reply he received was not the reply he wanted as a dull blunt cracked behind his head and the world once more turned black. The Earth-Warder's head plopped back down and his mind returned to its gleeful unconsciousness where his dreams would make more sense than the world he was built to protect.

* * *


	4. IV

**IV**

It was the worst idea he had, going with her when she decided to undergo her specialized two month-long training session back at Stormwind Intelligence Command. And she talked him out of it many times before, but he was insistent. Sometimes, there was no arguing with him. Normally, he did stay behind so that he could keep an eye on his flight in the swamp, or if someone from the Earthen Ring needed him. But this time, he wanted to come on one of her trips. After all, he wanted to show her that he wouldn't get in her way. So, he kept himself locked in the dormitory provided, refusing to even go outside for a simple walk through the streets of Stormwind, fearful of what sort of reaction he would receive from the locals. They already left a few gifts here and there on the stoop, smashed, stinking eggs yokes coating the steel door, rotting vegetables littering the steps, and meat with flies buzzing around, their putrid smell none too pleasant––even to him.

At night, when everyone was asleep, he would come out to clean the filth from the steps through his command over water, calling upon it from the nearby fountain.

He heard a crash through the living room window and a plop and a bounce. Neltharion moved over to see what it was. There, in a mess of shattered glass and wood was a rock with a note tied around it. The Black Dragon settled himself down upon his belly on the hardwood floor, brushing away the shattered glass from the rock. Then, he picked up the rock and very gently opened the note that was folded around it. On a piece of parchment was written in rather sloppy Dwarven glyphs was one phrase: _"This is for Ironforge, you fat bastard!"_

Neltharion growled and crumpled the note. The parchment ignited into flames in his paw and crumpled to ashes afterwards. No one was ever going to let him hear the end of every screw up he had done, despite he doing it for the best of everyone. Well, he thought he was doing it for the best of everyone. As it turned out, not many believed that. With a creak of the wooden floor, Neltharion rose to his feet to peer fearfully out the window.

It was a gray day in Stormwind. The fog rolled in and seemed to cling tightly to the streets despite it being mid afternoon. Even the sun's warmth could not burn away the gloom. He heard the sound of bells chime from the cathedral off in the distance and he could see the great towers of Stormwind arching up, only to disappear into the clouds themselves. Though, he could not mistake the black claw-like gashes along the tops of the towers still smoldering away even after all this time. Nor could he forget the enormous crater that was Stormwind's Park.

That was his fault too.

Neltharion brought out the broom from the closet and began to sweep up the mess into a dust pan. Then, he closed the heavy curtains, pinning them shut with a clothes pin. The living room became dark, the only light came from a small, incandescent lamp on a coffee table and the Draenei hard light screen. This dorm was practically one of the few places where something like that could be found. However, it was for a specific purpose, much like the screen they had back in Theramore–to keep in contact with Command. Though, he had to admit, it reminded him of something far more sophisticated––something his father used. He looked at it for a moment and then approached it, waving his claw flatly over the purple projection lights.

There, the emblem of SI:7 appeared in gold upon the screen itself, a roaring lion's head set in the center of the Lordaeron 'L' all inside a radiating sun, with the words curved below reading "Stormwind Intelligence: Section Seven."

Section Seven was regarded as one of the highest of top clearance, cloak and dagger operations within the Alliance itself. Black-ops––these were the people Calia truly worked for. Which was why Neltharion was allowed to live in Theramore. For the most part, he was a well kept secret after Deathwing was "destroyed" as it were and SI:7 kept the lid on his existence covered up until the Twilight Hammers took hold of an SI:7 operative and managed to squeeze every intel they could gather from him as to the whereabouts of the traitor. Then, Neltharion's cover was blown and he and Calia were forced from Theramore Isle.

But they returned after the battle with Ultraxion, once more making Theramore their home. However, the damage had been done, the world knew Neltharion was back.

And the world did not rejoice a single bit. Everyone who truly did not understand what Neltharion's purpose was all wanted him dead from day one. King Varian Wrynn, though he despised Neltharion, had to come out and explain everything to his people. Still, that did not soften the blow. Which was one of the reasons why Neltharion decided to remain in Theramore and away from the Eastern Kingdoms. Aside from Garrosh's own hatred towards the Dragon Aspect, he felt more welcomed in Theramore.

He flipped through the old newspapers of nearly two years ago, stored upon microfilm. With a swish of his claw, he read upon the news that captured Deathwing's rampage through the city. Bodies found burnt, dead, ashes, blacken bones, and other victims suffered severe burns, blindness, deafness. Worse yet, there was a sickness that came afterwards, a very strange sickness never truly recorded upon Azeroth until the Cataclysm. Stories told about many people in Stormwind suddenly bleeding from the anus as their bodies rejected their intestinal lining. Then, of course, they died afterwards, in horrid agony. Hair falling out of people's scalps, strange burns that looked to have been caused by Deathwing's raging heat, but did not seem like actual heat burns. One woman was found with strange patterned burns on her body created from the heat and the floral pattern on her dress. Where there was white, her skin was not burned as badly, but where there was darker colors, there were the burn patches. Worse yet, there were some reoccurring cases.

Of course, Stormwind kept some of these scenes from leaking out to the populace on just how bad it was for the Cataclysm on their side. Whether or not the Elves or other races had seen similar incidents with regards to Deathwing's attack had yet to surface––that is until the Ironforge incident.

Neltharion remembered quite well the Ironforge incident, what happened. He hoped beyond hope that the dwarves were safe beneath their mountain when he flew by, his wings covered in the pyroclastic debris from Blackrock Mountain. Unfortunately, they were not and as he carried the cloud over their lands, aside from the usual damage caused by pyroclastic surges, that same sickness took the Dwarves. There were hairless dwarves now, the hair follicles that grew their beards had been damaged beyond healing.

So, Neltharion made a secret promise never to go blasting out of volcanoes ever again. Though, little did he know that was only part of the cause.

Since the Ironforge incident, many feared to even be around him. It was understood, he was a little over 800 feet in length, nearly 90 thousand tons in weight in his true size. Just walking around toppled buildings due to his extreme density. No, that wasn't it. It was the fear of the sickness that kept some of these people away from him. Fear of Deathwing, fear of what he was, just plain fear. But Neltharion could never understand just what this sickness was. Calia never got sick when she was around him. Nor did Jaina, nor did anyone in Theramore. It was only when his wings were ignited with fire and smoke did people get this sickness.

Neltharion swept his claw, moving to the next image. He pulled up a film that showed Deathwing's rampage. And he watched as the film played, seeing a fiery creature with massive wings, shrouded in black smoke fly overhead. Lightning streaked through the billowing smoke, caused by the static of the tiny rock fragments in the pyroclastic loud itself. As the lightning struck the ground, the film flickered with static white streaks. Then, as the fiery cloud finally flew over the tracker, the film ended in static snow.

He kept viewing those files, over and over ever since he got here. He had never seen them until he got here. The hard light link through SI:7 was rather limited in Theramore, at least to him. Calia did not want him to see this. Though, one could never hide a secret from he who was the Master of Secrets. Neltharion lowered his head and his tears stung his eyes as he replayed the footage.

He could not go out side. He would not show his face to them.

The dragon wiped his eyes as he replayed it over and over. He never saw it from their level, never heard their cries while locked in his mind with Deathwing taking the reigns. His heart sank, ached, trembled. He froze the image and laid his head down, puddles forming below his cheeks as he wept.

Calia did not want him to see this. She knew what it would do to him if he saw it. But these images were the only thing that kept him busy while she was away at SI:7 Command. Then, the screen flashed as he heard a chime from the speakers. He looked up to see a call coming in with SI:7's emblem flashing. Neltharion wiped his eyes and tapped the screen.

"Yes?" he asked as a shadowy man's face appeared on the golden screen before him.

_"Earth-Warder,"_ began the man. _"I am the Director of Section 7, your wife's boss––"_

He had a peculiar accent. Neltharion almost identified it as rustic, fluid, and very long and slow, with flat sounding long 'i' and non existent 'r'. His accent almost made him sound like a Darkspear Troll, but not quite. However, though he spoke slowly, Neltharion could hear that this man was by no means slow in mind. However, he knew specifically what ethnic group this human was from. There were not many of his background around anymore.

"Director Nicolas Xavier," he said. "Konmen lé-zafè?"

_"Çé bon, mèsi,"_ Nicolas replied. _"I never knew a foreigner who could speak my language."_

"I learned a lot of languages in my life time," said Neltharion. He wiped his eyes again. "But that particular one, I have not heard in many years. Why are you calling me?"

_"It is about your wife, sir,"_ said Nicolas as he leaned in, the light of the screen shining upon his face. Neltharion could see a man nearing his golden years, lines running across his face, his pale green eyes obscured by his thick glasses. _"I need you to come down and perhaps sign some paperwork. Since you are considered next of kin––her only living next of kin––"_

"Wait," Neltharion said in a start, his heart suddenly freezing when he heard the Director's words. "Has something happened to Calia?"

_"Forgive me, Lord Neltharion, I did not mean to presume such,"_ he said smoothly. _"Your wife is fine, sir. Agent Hastings is currently undergoing surgery however. Because of the procedure, my insurance policy requires the benefactor to come down and be present, and some paperwork signed just in case something does happen. Normally it does not, but protocol is protocol and policy is policy. You are her next of kin––and legal procedures require you to be on stand by just in case power of attorney need to be bestowed upon you, or any sort of settlements paid in an event of an accident during the procedure. It is of course, required, sir."_

"Next of kin––"

_"Your marriage to her makes you as such,"_ said the Director. _"Given the sensitivity of Agent Hasting's past, no other blood relative can be found. So, this is why I need you to come down to the office, if you would, please."_

"Of course," said Neltharion. "But, what surgery is she––"

_"Despite the fact we provide you with this terminal, this is still not quite a secure channel,"_ said Nicolas. _"I much rather tell you in person, if you will."_

"There is a small problem, I can't leave the dorm," began Neltharion. "I've had a few––pranksters throw rocks in my window." He paused to hear another window shatter and another plop on the floor. "And they're still doing it."

_"Well, you are quite the popular celebrity."_

"I think first they want my autograph, and then they want my hide," said Neltharion.

_"My dear Earth-Warder, I would never reckon that a bunch of tiny rocks would ever damage your magnificence,"_ said the Director with a little subtle hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, funny," said Neltharion, with a snort of black smoke from his nostrils. "But it isn't whether or not they'll damage me with those rocks, it's more about the humiliation. You see, I have a bit of a low self-esteem problem and I kinda hate myself––a lot. And whenever people start throwing rocks and garbage at me, it just makes me want to crawl under a big rock and die. So, in a way, yes, they do hurt me, maybe not physically, but they do hurt me, a lot!" He lowered his head to the table the screen floated above. "I think the emotional trauma is a hundred times worse than the physical trauma."

He leaned away, dropping a claw to the floor. He looked worn, his eyes puffy, baggy and he failed to conceal to the fact he had been crying. Then he looked away.

"Calia does need me, though," he said.

_"I figured that would be enough to get you out of the house for a while."_

"I'll be there," Neltharion said as he wiped his eyes again.

_"If you run into a few obstacles, sir, do not worry about removing them."_

"Alright," said Neltharion. "But only because of Calia. I don't want anything happening to her."

_"I am certain that your loving presence will help Agent Hastings get through the surgery,"_ said Nicolas. _"I will see you when you arrive. I shall have the guards let you pass once you approach the gate."_

"Thank you," said Neltharion, dipping his head in gratitude. "Bonswa."

_"Bonswa,"_ said the Director as the screen went dark.

Neltharion took in a deep breath, gathering what last bit of courage he had within himself to leave the dorm. Then, he heard another plop as something came through the already broken window and another sound of glass breaking as the object hit the floor. The Black Dragon turned and saw an orange light as fire ignited, spreading almost like liquid over the wood. Neltharion's eyes lit up as the fire rose, feeling the heat rise in the room.

"Ah––crap."

"Hrim ek, Drakk!" shouted a masculine voice from the outside. Neltharion knew what that meant in Dwarven as well.

The Black Dragon approached the flames and inhaled deeply, sucking up the fire into his mouth. Then, he swallowed hard, letting loose an earth trembling belch. Neltharion turned back to now the dark, smoking, black spot on the floor. His nose detecting the sour smell of dwarfish ale, obviously used for the fuel for the bottle bomb thrown through the window. Neltharion stuck his head out the window, seeing two young dwarves run down the paved street as fast as their short legs would carry them.

"You damn kids!" he called, leaning his neck out the window. "Just wait till I get ahold of your parents! And stay off my lawn." Neltharion pulled his head out, catching just exactly what he said. "Wow, I sound _really_ old."

He took in a deep breath and he opened the door, pushing his huge bulk through and out upon the stoop. Neltharion turned to close the door, locking it up with a brass key and then sliding it under the welcome mat. Then, he started down towards the street. The Black Dragon paused, looking around cautiously for anyone hiding behind a bush, or a street light, or even behind the dorm, ready to start pelting him with rotten vegetables. He slammed his tail upon the concrete, sending a tremor through the ground, cracking the concrete. Neltharion closed his eyes, feeling the echoing vibrations return to him. White blips appeared through the fluctuations, five of them, heading towards him. He felt the air itself shift around him as his keen ears picked up the soft whistling sound of several objects flying towards him. Neltharion rose to his hind legs and held up both forepaws. Upon his command, two large, tan, angular rocks jutted out on either side of him, providing a protective shield. Neltharion looked, hearing the sound of small metallic pelts against the stone. He turned, looking around the rock, to find slugs sticking out and the surface laced with a hairline cracks.

"Great, now, I'm missing the vegetables."

More whistling sounds followed and Neltharion ducked behind the rocks, hearing another pelt of the slugs.

"Hey, I think that's illegal!" Neltharion called. "I'm telling the guards!"

"Ahz rük!"

Neltharion peeped out from behind the rock, seeing the dwarves charge for him, guns blazing. With a kick of his foot, he sent the rock to his right sliding into the three dwarves flanking him. They toppled over like bowling pins, hitting the hard pavement. He sent the second rock to the other two dwarves running for him and then darted off, galloping down the street. Neltharion passed pedestrians walking along in the street, leaving them rather dumbfounded as to who it was that just swiftly passed them.

He kept sweeping his head from side to side, his loose locks from his braids flapping in the wind. Though, the one thing Neltharion should be watching was what was in front. With his mind preoccupied with watching out for ambushing dwarves, he did not see the newly bleached white stone of Stormwind gates suddenly speeding straight for him. The gates, still in disrepair from when Deathwing landed on top of them and burned his claws into their towers, and here Deathwing was again, returning to leave another mark upon their sides. The Earth-Warder slammed right into the stone, his thick head plowing a dragon-shaped hole into the side. With a moan, he slowly pulled himself out. The limestone bricks toppling upon his crown. Neltharion leaned his back against the wall, feeling the falling stone only adding insult to injury. He looked to his left and then to his right just as three Stormwind Guards dressed in their finest armor came walking towards him, assault rifles cocked. They stared him down, their eyes narrowing in disgust upon him. One of the black-stained, small, melted stone from the top of the tower rumbled and rolled off, plummeting into Neltharion's lap. The dragon growled as the stone fell upon him.

"I have no idea what it is you have with the gate, Deathwing," began one of the guards. "But this is the last time you try to destroy it."

"I––well––I––I––" words failed the Aspect as he wagged his head. His black claw pointed up at the destroyed top. "I––sorry––um––"

Though, before he could even explain why he made a hole into the gate's tower, his attention was called away as his ears picked up the sound of a low, creak, a moan that sounded like an enormous, old joint trying to bend. Neltharion looked up towards the gray fog hanging lowly around the white stone to see the top of the tower begin to lean towards him and the guards. The guards backed away as the tower leaned more towards them. Neltharion rose to his feet, his eyes darting up and down the tower as it slowly began its fall. He took his two legs, his heart leaping into his throat. Then, before the tower could completely topple over, the Black Dragon held up his paws and the stone froze in mid fall. Almost like a feather, the heavy stone lowered into his paws as the guards scampered out from underneath it. Neltharion held the tower gently, bracing the weight upon his shoulders. Then with a gentle push, he guided the tower's top back up, commanding the stone itself to return to its position. As the top settled back to rest, Neltharion relaxed and turned back towards the guards. The one who spoke to him walked up to him, still with that cold expression. There was no gratitude in his brown eyes.

"You know, Deathwing," he began. "I had a little apartment that looked over the Park. Then, you came, and I lost my home and my wife, and my daughter and son. And then my King said that we had to be nice to you because you're good now."

He spat near the dragon's toes and turned to walk away. His companions followed, not even looking back at Neltharion. The dragon sighed.

"You're welcome," Neltharion said, his lip curling in disgust. Though, it was not in disgust over what the guard didn't say, it was what he did say. Neltharion was once more disgusted with himself.

Dragging his feet through the spring grounds, he kept his mind on what the guard said, why the dwarves were attacking him, and each time he came to a conclusion, it was this––he hated himself because every bit of their suffering was his fault. The sickness, the guard's home and dead wife and children, and every other bad thing that he was told about, he had something to do with it. At least there was one person he could count on, and she needed him.

Why was Calia going through surgery? This was supposed to be a training session.

Neltharion finally came to the base at the end of the overgrown gravel road where Stormwind Intelligence Command was located. Before him was an enormous chain link fence and a guard tower. A top the fence, lining its length were silvery barbed wire. Tall sodium lamps topped each fence post and black wires carrying power between them. Neltharion smelled the air, noticing the faint dry scent of ozone. The fence was electrified. The Night Elf guard above was not dressed in the usual Stormwind attire, shiny, silvery armor and blue tabard. Nor did he have the usual long, scraggly hair of a Night Elf. His blue hair was cut rather short and neat, and he was dressed in something else. The guard was dressed in olive, drab green with gray and green patterned chaps along his legs and bracers upon his arms. Another guard approached him, also dressed in a similar uniform, holding tight to his magazine-fed rifle. A scope was mounted upon the top. The uniform had armor on it, black and olive drab green covering his chest and shoulders, and his shins, and the dragon could smell the bland scent of titanium coming from the armor. It was light, but tough. A black hunting knife was strapped to the harness that held the armor, the handle pointing down to make it easier for the guard to unsheathe it. Even the lion of Stormwind emblazoned upon a patch on his right shoulder was subdued in colors of black and olive. Neltharion had to admit, the armor looked more maneuverable and a bit more comfortable than the full suit of armor worn by the Stormwind Guards. And the olive green uniform helped to camouflage the guard, rather than the silver and blue that would make a Stormwind Guard stick out like a sore thumb against the forest backdrop. This guard was dressed a bit more like most of the soldiers around Theramore, who wizened to the notion that camouflage was better than painting bright blue bull's eyes upon their chest.

"Sir," he began, using the most formal and courteous tone Neltharion had ever heard so close to Stormwind. "Just a moment, I'll radio for your escort."

He brought out a bulky receiver in that same olive green color as his uniform and pressed down upon a button upon the radio inside of his guard house. Neltharion sat and waited for a reply. Then, within a few moments, he heard the sound of shuffling feet on wet gravel behind the gate. The gate's crank creaked as it opened up, and the door of the gate slid open to the side as guardsmen pulled up on levers to disconnect the power to the gate itself. Several soldiers also dressed in that same olive color, wearing similar armor, motioned for Neltharion to follow. As the Dragon Aspect came in, he looked to the side to see a jeep roll by, similar to the ones he saw the last time he was in Stormwind after he had killed his son Ultraxion. Jeeps, trucks, and the usual horse drawn wagons were bringing back many of the refugees from Stormwind. Covered canvas trucks were parked under camouflaged tarps designed to make it look like ivy vines growing up around a grassy mound. As the jeep drove on by, flags denoting a high ranking officer riding inside, the soldiers escorting Neltharion saluted as they continued their walk towards the compound. When the jeep was finally out of sight of the soldiers, they dropped their arms.

This was SI:7?

He recalled once that Stormwind Intelligence was once held inside a quaint looking cottage. Apparently, in the recent years, they've done some remodeling. Stormwind's flag flew proudly from a steel pole near the compound, despite the gray gloom that still lingered through the freshly budding leaves of the forest surrounding it. However, the gray sky only made the color of the green stand out even more boldly.

"This can't be the SI:7 Command," said Neltharion.

"It is, actually, sir," said one of the soldiers, a Worgen, still with his human shape. Neltharion could smell that the human was in fact a Worgen. Worgens always had that stinky, wet dog smell, even in their human forms, being a lycanthrope. They could never hide it. The Worgen in human form turned to the Aspect. "This serves as also the training base for both cadets and top level operatives."

"Though, we were thinking about building an academy up in the Alterac Mountains," said another soldier, just a normal human, turning to give Neltharion a sharp, disapproving eye. "However, the Cataclysm made that a bit difficult."

"I am––sorry about that," said Neltharion.

"Yeah, we've heard it before," said the human soldier. "That's all you're good for, lots of apologies, aren't you––sir?"

"That's enough," said the Worgen. "We're just here to escort him, not condemn him." He looked back at Neltharion. "Sorry, Lord Neltharion."

"No, it's called for," said Neltharion. "He's right. No amount of apologies can fix what I have done."

The human soldier said nothing, but Neltharion picked up on his surface thoughts. He could feel the pulse of hostility brush against his own mind like a frosty wind. The Dragon Aspect sighed, his breath rolling over his vocal cords, giving off a deep growl. The human gripped his gun tighter when he heard it, read to turn and aim right between the dragon's eyes.

Neltharion paused, when he sensed the hostile thoughts from the human and he stopped in his steps.

"Are you coming?" the Worgen asked.

"Uh––yes," said Neltharion. "Yes."

They approached a building built of the smoothest of white marble and decorated in black slate. The soldier reached out to the heavy glass and bronze door, and opened it. The other guard took hold of the other door and opened it as well, allowing Neltharion to pass through into the immaculate marble lobby. Well, he thought it was the lobby. Neltharion walked upon black slate into what appeared to be an enormous chamber covered in ice and snow. Standing there in the middle of the floor of the chamber was a block of ice and a sword. Upon the sword's hilt was a ram's skull and horns, the eye sockets glowed a cold blue. Neltharion could see strange runes carved with blue energy within the part of the jagged exposed blade above the ice. He knew very well what that sword was.

"Frostmourne," he said. "Wait––"

The Earth-Warder turned around, expecting to see the guards who led him into this room to be behind him. They were no where to be found.

"What's going on?"

"What's going on is you sleeping on the job, Nel," said a familiar voice as Neltharion picked up the sound of heavy, armored boots clacking towards him.

He turned again to the voice and found his brother in law Arthas walking up behind him. Neltharion rumbled a sigh, slumping his shoulders and bowing his head heavily.

"Hello, Art," he said.

"Hello, Nel," said Arthas. He passed the dragon and as he did so, he gave Neltharion a hearty, but playful punch to the dragon's shoulder. He pulled his pale white hair back from his face and leaned against the block of ice holding Frostmourne. "I'm here to help you get out."

"Get out?" Neltharion asked. "Out of where?"

"Your brother Nozdormu is holding us against our will––you and me," he said. "Since I'm tied to you, I'm stuck here too."

"I've been meaning to ask that, why are you still here? Why did you appear to me that day when I was beaten by Ultraxion, why have you been appearing since then?"

"Maybe the Light feels I need to earn my place at my father's side, brother," said Arthas with a shrug. "Since you've stated that point yourself, even in my death, I wasn't sorry for what I've done. So, perhaps helping you will help me grow closer to the Light again after I chose to abandon it so long ago for undeath." He let his arm drop from the ice. "Or, maybe the Light has a sense of humor and wanted to lump two of Azeroth's former villains together and see what sort of shenanigans we'd come up with."

"Like a bad sitcom show," said Neltharion. "The _Adventures of Arthas and Deathwing_ , coming soon to a magic ball near you."

"Tell me about it."

Neltharion spread his wings, wiggling the digits in a stretch, rumbling again. His breath puffed from his nostrils in a mist of steam. Then, he closed them and began to walk towards the former Lich King. He gave his long, braided beard a shake, the little trinkets and feathers jingling. Then, he looked around at the chamber of Icecrown, hearing the crack of an icicle as it plummeted and shattered upon the cold floor.

"My brother," the Earth-Warder said. "He said I have to allow something to happen, something bad, but in the end, it'll turn out best for everyone."

"I can't pretend to know what the Time Lord sees," said Arthas. "You Aspects have some crazy powers. Nozdormu...I'd say he has one of the weirdest. But, I know this, I think my sister is really getting angry that you're not quite home yet."

"I didn't give her a date in which I'd return," said Neltharion. "And when I left, I knew she had to go off on another one of her trips too. I haven't checked if she's back in Theramore." He sighed. "And while I'm stuck in this––place––wherever it is, I can't contact her."

"She might be home," said Arthas. "But––there's something else. I noticed you woke up, like something waking you up before––before your brother knocked you out again. What woke you up?"

Neltharion shook his head. The scene, meeting the Direct or SI:7, coming into their base to sign some sort of document, none of that was real.

"Neltharion, you were dreaming about something that happened three months ago," said Arthas. "You went to Stormwind because Calia needed––surgery."

"The blood manipulation I did to her in the Bastion of Twilight," said Neltharion, his head dipped again. He felt his heart clinch up tightly in his chest. "I should have realized I didn't have the control to use that power like Deathwing did. I could have killed her."

"That's all in the past, now what was it that you sensed?"

Neltharion wagged his head.

"You're not in Stormwind anymore," said Arthas.

"I remember waking up," said Neltharion. "There was this strange tremor I felt, even inside the Caverns of Time." He began to walk towards the ice block where the sword was in and reached out to touch it. He let the cold block help him focus, feeling its slick surface against the black pads of his paws. Then, the Black Dragon rose up and took hold of the great rune sword and slowly pulled it free. Then, he leaned back upon his haunches and laid the blade upon his other claw to look at it. "May I?"

"I don't see why not," said Arthas. "It's not the real Frostmourne."

The Black Aspect smiled and said: "Only a figment of my imagination." He turned the tip downward to the floor. "But the sound it makes when it comes in contact with a surface."

"Sound?"

Neltharion moved away from the ice block and then scraped the tip of Frostmourne across the floor, listening to the sound of the metal ring as it drew a line in the surface.

"It sounded like this," said Neltharion. "The tremor that I felt. It had a sound."

Then, he scrapped the sword again. The dragon looked back behind to his tail and lifted the tip up. He scraped the elementium blade of his tail against the hard floor, listening to it making a similar ringing sound.

"This sound is particular," said Neltharion. "Arthas, did you know that arcane energies create an interesting ring in the rock?"

"I didn't know that," said Arthas.

"Though I don't remember much of my life prior to madness the Old Gods inflicted upon me," he began. "I do recall one thing. I could always find where my brother Malygos was just by listening to the sound of arcane energies affecting the rock. Though he sees the leylines all around Azeroth and he can control them, I can hear them, so long as they are flowing through the rock."

"And all leylines do," said Arthas.

"Hearing the leylines allowed me to alter the land without harming them," said Neltharion. "Malygos and I often worked together because we were the only ones who could sense them." He closed his eyes. "Arcane energies often make a metallic ring in the rock when someone is drawing energy from them to perform a very powerful spell. I heard the ringing and it woke me up."

"Someone was performing a powerful spell?"

"I can only hear the ringing of what arcane energies does to the rock wen its exposed to the radiation," said Neltharion. "I don't know what spells are being used that would create such a disturbing sound."

"That is an interesting ability," said Arthas. "So, this disturbance, you don't know what it is?"

"No," said Neltharion.

"Would Malygos?"

"Well, he would, but he's dead and his spirit doesn't have his Aspect powers now," said Neltharion. "Even if I told him what I heard, he couldn't tell me what it was without sensing it. But his successor Kalecgos might."

"That sounds like a plan!"

Neltharion's eyes lit up in shock when he heard that familiar, cheery voice. He turned to see a High Elf dressed in deep, sapphire robes, walking out from behind the ice block. The High Elf had long blue hair tied up in a fluffy topknot and bound in crystal wraps. Neltharion held his breath when he saw his brother Malygos standing before him. All Malygos could do was wave emphatically. The Black Dragon leaned back upon his haunches, lowering the sword and held out his forelegs for his brother. Malygos embraced Neltharion as the dragon wrapped his forelegs tightly around his brother's shoulder.

"Oh, I've missed you too, little brother, I've missed you too!" Malygos said. He chuckled as he felt Neltharion's hot breath upon his cheeks as his brother nuzzled him with his snout. Malygos reached up to scratch Neltharion behind his beard. "I have missed you."

"I've missed you, Malygos," said Neltharion. "I'm sorry I don't visit often."

"I'm not sore about that," said Malygos. "I suppose fixing all the mess you've done is going to take a long time. There are times where I wish I could fix what I've done. Yet, Alexstrasza was so adamant in my death. I––I don't know why."

Neltharion rumbled, burying his face in his brother's deep blue hair.

"Jealous of us, Mal," he whispered. "Jealous I spent most of my time with you and only paid attention to her when she needed me to smile and nod for every decision." He backed away, but still holding onto his older brother. "That's what I felt I was like for her––her 'yes' man. I think that's why I was her right hand, because I said yes to everything."

"Bitter," said Malygos. "Very bitter. Don't fault her for it. She––always had a fascination with you. I think she hated it even more when you ran off with that Calia girl two years ago." He gave his brother a small kiss to his cheek and then let go. "To business."

Neltharion cleared his throat and looked back towards Arthas.

"So, uh, tell me, when did you two––" the Earth-Warder said as he pointed between Malygos and Arthas.

"Malygos forgave me right after he kicked me in the balls several times for turning his dead Prime Consort into a dracolich," said Arthas with a small chuckle.

"I figured I cannot hurt Arthas anymore than what's been done," said Malygos.

"And so, now I'm haunted by two ghosts," said Neltharion.

"Well, from time to time, I give the young Kalecgos a lesson or two about being the new Spell-Weaver," said Malygos. "Which is why I've came down here. Arthas had been trying to drag you out of whatever past event you were reliving here. It's Nozdormu's little attempt to keep you busy for whatever crazy plan he has."

"He said something has to happen," said Neltharion. "And if I try to stop it before it happens, or do something before it happens, I'll lose everything I've been trying to work for in bringing both factions together."

"And this is where I am at a loss," said Arthas. "Why are you doing that, Nel?"

"Something terrible is about to happen," said Neltharion. "I can feel it. I can't describe it, but I can feel it."

Arthas sighed: "Well, one Aspect is being rather vague. Magic Aspect, translate?"

Malygos crossed his arms and wagged his head, his ponytail draping over his shoulder just as he stopped in thought. He lifted a pale hand to his chin and scratched his pointed nose with a long finger.

"I am at a loss," said Malygos. "It's only a premonition. But if Nozdormu predicts that a horrible event is about to happen, and his only method in stopping it is to have the only Aspect that involves himself with the lives of mortals to gain allies for the fight, then far be it for me to question his motives." He lowered his hands to his sides. "But this magical flux you heard through the rock, that concerns me. Something terrible has happened and I'm afraid that young Kalecgos hasn't had enough time in getting acquainted with his new powers to figure it out. He will need you. When our Titans made us, granted our powers, both Aspects of Earth and Magic felt drawn together. It is like our very make up was meant to coexist as one. Matter and energy, you and I are two halves of a whole, Neltharion. Now, you and Kalecgos are two halves of a whole." He took in a deep breath. "Something has recently happened. Something that Kalecgos is trying to hide from me, almost like he was ashamed of it. He's flown south towards Theramore in search of that Kirin Tor human––Jaina Proudmoore?"

"Jaina?" Neltharion said. "Why would he––"

"Jaina was one of the top mages of the Kirin Tor before she took refugees of Lordaeron to create Theramore," said Arthas. "She's an archmage and she is readily available without having to go through Kirin Tor red tape in order to speak to her." He looked to Malygos. "If the Aspect of Magic needed help from one of the best mages we mortals have to offer, outside of Rhonin Redhair, Jaina would be the next best thing."

"Something has happened that Kalecogs has refused to speak to me on," said Malygos. "And he has gone to Jaina for help. I do want to know what it is. But I do know that maybe you can assist with whatever trouble he is in. You two need to spend some time together and get to know each other a bit better."

Neltharion rumbled in disagreement, wagging his head.

"He––still sees me as Deathwing."

"Then show him how much you are not!" said Malygos. "Don't argue with your elder brother, Neltharion." He reached out to place a hand upon his brother's shoulder. "Help him and he will help you."

"Right," said Neltharion. He turned away though, his thoughts again looking back on where he was before. He relived going to Stormwind and finding out about what really happened to the dwarves after he blasted out of Blackrock Mountain, and his heart sank each time he thought about it.

"Don't think on that," said Arthas. "What's done is done."

"I can't excuse it––"

"No, but what happened isn't what's important," said Arthas. "Getting you out of here is."

"Time for you to wake up, brother," said Malygos.

* * *


	5. V

**V**

"Ahhhh..." Garrosh said with a gleeful smile upon his face. "Desu, desu, bitches!"

He looked up just as several tanks rolled up and fired their cannons upon the white, palisade that protected Northwatch Hold. The Cataclysm that had torn through the Barrens, splitting the land in two, had weakened the stone fortifications of this large Alliance stronghold. They crumbled before the might of Garrosh's army. Zaela ordered her drakes to lay siege to the walls, setting fire upon the rafters. Garrosh's golden eyes lit up, as that smile curled even tighter across his face when he saw an explosion light up the north wall.

"Yes!" he called. "Yes!"

Garrosh gripped his great axe, Gorehowl, tightly, his heart thumping against his ribcage when he saw a gryphon rider fall, her mount bloodied in the claws of a Dragonmaw black drake. The communication towers were warped from the heat, bent over in a shambling steel skeleton.

They were caught off guard, most of the watches settling down for the night while only a few lit fires and spotlights scanned the savannah. The first moment of alarm was the dead silence coming from the static of the radio connection with Theramore, the next was the sudden explosion of every siege cannon mounted on the walls. The next thing the Alliance soldiers at the Watch saw was the blinding light and thousands of Horde soldiers spilling out from a gigantic portal, a portal that could very well rival the Dark Portal in shear size. But unlike the Dark Portal, this one was made locally as a means to allow the army to jump a great distance in a short time. They first appeared about ten miles north of Northwatch, sent his men to start taking out the guards, and then made the final jump.

Garrosh took in a deep breath, inhaling his ingenious ego and the smell of burning Alliance bodies and stone into his wide nostrils.

He mounted upon his black furred dire wolf and began his own charge, joining the glorious battle. With one slash, and a splatter of blood, down went an Alliance soldier. He heard the sound of his soldiers calling out in support. His own soldiers lined themselves behind a few pieces of the blasted sandstone wall from the hold, firing their rifles upon the Alliance. The sound of gunfire rang loudly in his ears. The orc surveyed the battle, his wolf pausing to a small hill.

Tauren shaman called upon the forces of fire and wind, knocking Alliance soldiers from their mounts and then burned their bodies in the searing heat. Troll druids shifted into their bear and cat forms, tackling the other soldiers. Garrosh heard a crack and turned to see his dark shaman, the former Twilight Hammers stomp their feet all in unison. The ground quaked and opened up, swallowing the Alliance soldiers.

_Neltharion is going to hear that,_ he thought.

With the power they wielded, they overturned three heavy Alliance tanks and sent one flying, only to be slammed against the slope of the cliff in a violent, fiery explosion. He watched as they moved heavily, dispersing and then reforming a new position upon the ground. Each shaman lined up, their position looking like a shadow of four gigantic feet, all spaced out to represent a gigantic, four-footed creature. Garrosh smiled, recognizing what they were making. To wield nearly an eighth of the vast stores of elemental resources that the Earth-Warder can with a simple stretch of his body, that being the very planet of Azeroth itself, these specially trained shaman hand to think exactly alike, move as if they were one being.

As if they were Neltharion himself.

They moved exactly like he would. The Earth-Warder needed not to ask permission from the elements, or to call upon the spirits with the help of their totems. No, the Earth-Warder was the planet in dragon form. He commanded the elements. He moved, they moved with him. They obeyed him without question.

This was his statement that anything Neltharion can do, Garrosh can do better.

He loved to watch them work, to see them move like him. Though, the downside, they were limited to roughly two elements. Their anger fueled the fire they wielded, their uniformity and strength fueled the power to move mountains. But to access all of Neltharion's elemental abilities, it required mental sacrifices that none of the former-Twilight Hammer shamans were capable of doing. Their connection to the Old Gods blocked their abilities to control water and wind. But the Earth-Warder could control all four elements.

The shamans swept their feet and thrusted their fists, the gaping crack in the ground closing and the horrible sounds of the screaming soldiers soon became silent. Then they shifted again. The rock wall trembled violently, cracks splintering up the surface, rising like twisted talons from the ground. The wall came crumbling down. Thousands of orc soldiers poured on through.

Garrosh turned as his Kor'kron guards swiftly come to his side. There, the leader of his guards, Malkorok had gutted a dwarf soldier, his great axe now stained with fresh blood. The gray-skinned, Blackrock Orc threw back his head and let loose a mighty, triumphant howl. Garrosh only could give him an approving nod.

"We're knee-deep in Alliance blood, Warchief!" said Malkorok.

Garrosh's lip curled in his crooked smile at the victorious boast. Though, there were many who did not exactly share this gleeful victory of the crush of the Alliance. Those were the leaders of the Trolls and Tauren, Baine Bloodhoof and Vol'jin. Vol'jin had his eyes to the pale blue sky, looking at it nervously. Baine had his dark eyes on the ground, scrutinizing every rock, every lump of dirt, every dry crack in the red clay. His eyes broke from the ground and the Tauren Chieftain eyed Garrosh Hellscream when he heard another thunderous, earth-shattering crack of his Dark Shaman working their wonders. He snorted, his nostrils trembling, and his eyes stared darkly upon the shaman as they sent several other Alliance tanks flying towards the hard rock face of the steep hills.

"I can feel the Earth Mother shifting uncomfortably as Hellscream's shamans perform their skills," he said somberly.

"It leave me to ask, mon," began Vol'jin. "What Garrosh is doing. Should any one have dhat kind of power? To call upon it so easily––"

"Good question."

Vol'jin turned his eyes to the sky once more: "How long would it take dhe Earth-Warder to fly here and kick our asses back to Orgrimmar?"

"Three hours," said Baine.

"And how long have we've been fighting?"

"Two."

"One hour left to go."

"My eyes are on the ground."

"And mine, in dhe sky." The Troll's eyes narrowed when he saw small, white fluffy cloud float idly by. "I don't like dhe way dhat cloud is floating, mon."

Blaine snorted and then said gruffly: "And that rock looks funny."

At the corner of his eyes, he caught a strange, unnatural green glow. The Tauren looked up and his heart froze as dark, ominous clouds rolled over the battlefield. A flash of lightning streaked through the clouds and suddenly, green flames poured down.

"That is not Neltharion," said Baine.

As the balls of green fire landed, exploding in acrid light, the flames burned upon the attacking Horde. Blain could smell skin cooking, a fowl scent of burning tar and fur. The explosive bombs of green fire looked like rock formations. Then, they cracked and trembled, rising and unfolding their legs and arms.

"Infernals," said Vol'jin. "Dha rumors from Orgrimmar were true. Dha Alliance be usin' Fel Magic!"

"Warlocks," said Baine. "I never knew how desperate King Wrynn was. He has the Earth-Warder, why would he subject himself to this?"

"He no trust dha Earth-Warder, remember?" said Vol'jin. "He cannot trust Neltharion, dhen what else can he trust?"

"But demons who call the Burning Legion allies," said Baine.

"Sometimes ya take what ye can get. Deathwing and the Burning Legion. Dha best he can muster."

The rocky, skeletal forms of the giant, green fiery infernals slugged their way through advancing orc forces. The green fire rose high into the sky and Blain could feel it's sickening, torrent energies spidering up his shoulders. Vol'jin turned as another flash of green, a horrible whistling noise, and followed the direction of the green fireball. Those specialized Dark Shamans, the ones who kept knocking back thanks and other heavily armored vehicles, paused and looked up. They clapped their hands and then raised them to the sky. The ground quaked around them and splintered. Large, fractured, slabs of brown rock rose up around the shamans, protecting them as the green flames impacted the surface.

Garrosh sneered as the fel fire reflected off of his golden eyes, turning them a strange, sickly green. A hulking felguard rose up from the flames, gray, pebbling skin, bulging muscles and spines, and brandishing an enormous battle axe, cast his shadow over Garrosh and his Kor'kron. Malkorok's red eyes sparkled as the demon tore through several of Garrosh's guards. Heads were pulled loose with bloody spines and veins still dripping from the bones, bodies cut in half.

"For the Alliance!" Garrosh heard the triumphant call of an Alliance Warlock.

"No!" Garrosh heard Malkorok's defiant cry. "For the Horde!"

The Blackrock orc leapt upon the back of the felguard, the demon itself was nearly three times as large as he was. The demon roared out, feeling a knife cut along his flesh, his black ichor oozing forth from the wound. It flinched and flailed, swatting at the smaller orc with the flat of its axe. Malkorok held tightly, digging his nails into the dark gray skin. Green glowing eyes of fel fire flashed wildly as the Blackrock Orc drove his axe's blade deep into the demon's back. Malkorok pulled himself behind the handle of his battle axe and then kicked off with his legs from the nape. With his own weight guiding him downward, Malkorok tore a gaping line down the demon's spine, splitting his back open and revealing the meat. With one defiant roar, the felguard toppled over as the orc pulled his weapon free. He turned to see the warlock who summoned the demon attempt to cast another spell. Shifting sparks of red and orange formed at the human's hands. Malkorok charged for the human. The Warlock began to step backwards as he continued to chant, calling upon something, anything to defeat this powerful orc who killed his demon. With a mighty, beastly roar, Malkorok tossed his axe and it impaled itself deep into the human's skull. The Warlock stood there, nearly frozen in mid-casting of his spell, the light of his fel magic fading from his hands. The heated wind blew across his robes, his rich blood splattering upon his chest. Then, the Warlock toppled back, his body falling limp. Malkorok snorted as he approached the human. He kicked the body, trying to see if by some miracle, he survived. Then, the orc knelt to take hold his axe. He gripped leather bound handle tightly, jerking it to and fro, seeing the legs of the human twitch involuntarily. With a sick crack, he pried the axe from the skull of his enemy and turned back to Garrosh. The Warchief nodded his approval and Malkorok raised his axe up with another roar of victory.

Garrosh pulled up beside the head of his honor guard and grinned.

"Send in the shamans, show them what strength the Horde has," he said. "If the Alliance can bring forth demons, then let them see what we can bring forth."

"By your word, Warchief," said Malkorok. He pulled free a ram's horn and blew it loudly. Its haunting call echoed towards the Dark Shaman. Malkorok lowered the horn and then ran for a ledge of rock, jumping towards the edge. He blew it again. "Shaman, show them! Show them what their precious Earth-Warder has taught you! Show them Deathwing's might!"

The Shaman turned to Malkorok. Their eyes flashed like burning coals upon his voice. As one, they all nodded, dipping their heads slowly. Then, they looked back at the rock face that contained Northwatch Hold. They started stomping their feet rhythmically, repositioning again to represent Neltharion lifting his feet one at a time in a walk. Malkorok watched, breathing heavily with anticipation. The dust around them flowed in a spiraling column, as if to take on the form of the Earth-Warder himself. Fiery cracks formed along the dust, sparked by lightning, further giving the draconic form its familiar ire.

"They command him," said Malkorok.

Baine slammed his golden hammer down upon another Alliance soldier. Then, he paused, his eyes lighting up with horror at the dark, draconic, fiery form he saw.

"Deathwing," he said.

"Aw, no, he can't be here, mon!" said Vol'jin. "It be not but two hours and thirty minutes!"

The Dark Shaman lifted their heads and called forth in a horrible roar. Baine shook his head.

"No, those are Garrosh's shamans," he said. "What––what are they doing?"

"Dhat power, mon," said Vol'jin. "It's not right."

The stone of Northwatch trembled violently, boulders falling free from the cliff. The rock itself started to burn, fading almost to a sickly, blue black. The top exploded forth, belching forth black ash, fire, and rock. The air became tinged with the putrid stench of brimstone.

"A volcano?" Vol'jin asked, slumping his shoulders in disbelief. "Dhere be no volcano here."

"This––this is a mockery," said Baine. "What has Garrosh done?"

Lava spewed forth in a fountain of fire, slinging hot rock everywhere. The black, choking cloud continued to rise as the lava spewed forth, melting away the stone of Northwatch. Then, the lava began to wrap itself, forming horrid tendrils. The tendrils thicken, looking like long, jagged, but muscular arms. Fingers formed from the stumps of the arms, becoming two huge, grasping hands. More tendrils formed, following the first as more arms and more hands rose from the lava. A powerful, muscular, etched by the fire inside, rose up upon thick, pillar-like legs and wide feet. Eyes filled with the fiery heat of the planet cast their gaze upon the Alliance soldiers. They looked up, trembling at the sight of the fiery, stony creatures that had formed from their own base. The gigantic beings of earth and fire loomed hundreds of feet above them. One of the creatures raised its foot and slammed it down upon the summoned Infernals wielded by the Alliance Warlocks. It crushed them like a tiny nut upon the ground. The Warlocks fired their fel fire upon the gigantic monstrosities of elemental power, but they were nothing more than tiny sparks, not even singing the rocky hide.

"In the name of the Earth Mother and the Worldmender, what have you done, Garrosh?!" shouted the tauren next to Baine.

"What dha hell are dhose things?" Vol'jin asked.

"Molten giants," he replied. "The Earthen Ring, under the wisdom of the Worldmender, has forbade their use."

"If there is anything that will call Neltharion here to stop this, it will be those creatures!" said Baine. "Please, tell me, what exactly are they doing? How are they able to create those giants?"

"They are wielding the power of the Worldmender," said the shaman. "Those shaman are from the Twilight Hammers, Chieftain."

"Which means dhat when Neltharion was Deathwing, he must have taught them some powerful tricks, mon," said Vol'jin. "Even to come close to wielding his power."

"Neltharion specifically stated that the control of elementals such as those could very well finish what Deathwing started––finish the Cataclysm!" said the shaman. "That is why he forbade it."

"Even the Black Aspect we once fought understood to live in peace with the Earth Mother," said Baine.

The Alliance soldiers were terrify beyond reasoning as they fell before the feet of the molten giants. While some attempted to hold firm to their fleeting courage, others dropped their weapons and bolted for cover, for the hills, for water perhaps. Anywhere to escape the monsters of fire, rock, and the planet's fury. Baine spied a lone Alliance shaman, a Draenei begin to stomp her purple and slate black hooves in the similar fashion that Garrosh's Dark Shamans did in order conceal the movement of the Horde's vast armies across the Barrens. Another Alliance shaman joined her, this time a Wildhammer Dwarf with a fiery beard and wild mohawk. They stomped and shifted, and dragged their feet upon the ground in the similar strange dance the Dark Shaman did.

"Shamans taught by the Earthen Ring," said Baine's own shaman. "Neltharion taught us some abilities as well."

"He did?" asked Vol'jin. "Can you do what dhose Dark Shamans are doing? Can you stop those monsters?"

"There's not enough of us," said the shaman. The tauren closed his eyes and felt the vibrations the Draenei and Dwarf were doing. "No, they're calling Neltharion."

A hot boulder of volcanic rock flung towards their direction. Trolls and Tauren scattered, rolling out of the way as the boulder impacted a few paces behind them. Blaine rose up from the ground, his skin shivering as he felt the heat off the boulder.

"Kador," he said to the Shaman. "Start stomping!"

"Yes, Chieftain," said Kador.

He began his own rhythmic dance of stomps of thrusts of his fists, mirroring that of the Draenei and the Dwarf.

Baine looked back at the giants. They roared, in utter elation over the destruction they were causing. The ground continued to crack as they made their way, through the Alliance ranks. One of the giants looked towards the two Alliance shamans, and slowly lumbered towards them. The shaman kept up their dance, the ground beneath their feet now trembling in reply to their call. Kador paused in his own dance and then slammed his foot straight into the ground. Up from the cracked dirt came a boulder of sandstone as big as he was. With an angered cry, he punched the boulder, sending it flying for the knee of the giant. The giant paused to look at him, but then raised its fist up towards the Alliance shamans. With one smooth movement, it smashed the two shamans upon the hill. Baine's eyes widened as the giant rose up, looking towards his group. The giant started for them.

"The Dark Shaman no longer control them," said Kador. "Now the molten giants control the Dark Shaman!"

Vol'jin's breath quicken as he looked towards Garrosh. The Mag'har orc was too busy laughing in almost maddening glee at the destruction his giants were causing.

"Behold the power of the Horde and die!" Garrosh called, raising Gorehowl up.

Kador thrusted his hands to his sides and two rocky, cylindrical formations jutted forth from the ground in a cloud of brown dust. The two formations slammed against either side of the giant's knee in attempt to keep it in a tight vice. He took hold of the leader of the Darkspears Trolls and his Chieftain and kicked off the ground, forming a rolling wave of dust and dirt. The shaman started to skate upon this wave, being propelled swiftly away from the giant. The molten monstrosity roared angrily as its next victims skittered from it. The giant tossed another flaming black boulder at them and Kador slammed his fist into the ground, calling upon a large rock wall to protect them. The boulder collided with the wall, causing it to crack and shatter into a pile of rubble.

"I don't have the strength to take on that thing!" he said.

"Just call him!" said Baine.

"He's not answering," said Kador.

"Ring louder, mon!" said Vol'jin.

The shaman cried and started thrusting his fists into the dirt as rhythmically as he one did with his feet. Baine could feel the earth start trembling again under his feet as his shaman continued to beat the ground.

"Shaman!" called Vol'jin. "Dhose creatures are no longer under dha fool Garrosh's control! Start calling dha Earth-Warder here to stop dhem!"

Malkorok looked on coolly as the raging elementals continued their fray across the land. Behind them there seemed little left of the burnt, blacken bodies of the Alliance soldiers. What feeing soldiers were left were quickly swept up by advancing Horde soldiers. It was a bloody landscape. Dragonmaw Black drakes scattered, rising higher above the giants and circling the battlefield. He turned his head as he watched the elementals and then towards the Dark Shamans. Though the shaman continued their dance, he could see their strength weakening. They fought to try and keep in step and each time one of them fell out of step, he heard the elementals roar. Now the elementals, each time the Shaman fell out step, started attacking a few Horde soldiers as well. He looked to Garrosh.

"Warchief!" he said. "The Shaman tire. They're losing their hold on the giants."

"Bid them to continue on!" said Garrosh. "Wrynn will pay for trying to use demons against me!"

"But they are killing some of our own as well!" said Malkorok. "We won't have enough for the siege if even our men die here."

Garrosh sneered over his tusks and his thick lips parted, ready to reprimand his honor guard's concerns, but a single, almost painful bellow echoed out from one of the raging giants. The molten giant faltered, throwing its arms up to grasp its head in agony, its fiery maw opening wide. Then, it fell to its hands and knees. Garrosh's eyes widened as he noticed a pair of rocky, bat-like wings sprouting out the back of the creature.

"Well," he said as he saw a thrashing, long tail sprout out from its buttocks. "Guess who decided to make it to the party after all? I wasn't expecting to meet him this soon though." He turned the Tauren braves paused to watch the giant. He spied one Tauren, a shaman stomping his feet. "Looks like Baine and I need to have a small chat."

The haunched over giant's body morphed, draconic, thick claws sprouting from its hands and feet. Its head morphed, sprouting two enormous horns from its crown and a small horn upon its nose as its nose grew into a thick, toothy, box like snout and jaws. Two fiery eyes opened and looked around at horror of the devastation caused by the Horde to Northwatch. Then, the enormous, rock and lava dragon turned to the other two giants. It stomped its foot down and called their attention. The dragon raised a claw and the two elementals lifted the heads up, their mouths gaping wide. Wider and wider, their mouths grew, until the fiery hole split their heads, slowly cracking through their necks and torsos. Bubbling lava popped and fizzled as the elementals lost their cohesion, becoming nothing more than a mass of smoldering rocks and the smell of burning brimstone. The dragon then turned to the only one it knew who could have caused this, Garrosh Hellscream. The Warchief started to laugh at the stony face of the dragon, not even phased by the hot gaze. Then, he rose two thick fingers and pointed to own eyes, and then he pointed right at the dragon.

_I see you, Deathwing!_ he thought with a grin.

Then, the dragon lifted its head up and its mouth gaped open wide, much like the giants did. And much like the giants, it lost its form as soon as it gained it, melting back into burnt earth that it came from. Garrosh chuckled, grinning even wider.

"There are no more Alliance," said Malkorok. "None for all the eye can see save for corpses."

"Not only have we've proven ourselves with this victory to best the Alliance here," said Garrosh. "But we have mastered the elements."

"With a minor hiccup," said Malkorok. "Unfortunately the Earth-Warder––"

"Yes, I saw," said Garrosh. "I saw. So what if he now knows. His 'neutrality' still stays his hand. He can't get involved."

"I beg to differ, Garrosh Hellscream!" came a voice heated with fury.

Garrosh turned to find Baine Bloodhoof walking up towards him, his hand tightly around the neck of his dwarfish, golden hammer, and his eyes in utter rage and disgust. His armor was dripping in the blood of his enemies, much like the armor of Malkorok and other orcs, but he took no joy from it.

"What you have done was reckless and stupid!" Baine continued. "If it weren't for the Worldmender coming here on short notice––"

"Enough!" called Malkorok. "You will not speak to the Warchief in such manner. And you shall address him properly!"

Baine looked to the gray-skinned orc and sneered at his outcry. Then, he turned to Garrosh who looked upon him with an expectant frown.

"Very well, _Warchief,_ "said the Tauren Chieftain, though it sound more like he was spitting upon the word "Warchief" rather than granting Garrosh any sort of respect for his title. "Kador has informed me that what you have done goes against the regulations set by the Earthen Ring. The usage of these molten giants insults and infuriates the Earth Mother. I could feel the earth twitch in pain as those monsters took a step. It took the will of the Worldmender to even halt this desecration before another Cataclysm could even begin! Apparently _he_ has learned much from the devastation he wrought during the last Cataclysm, so why haven't you?"

"I have made the power that fat, bloated, drunken reprobate of an Earth-Warder work for us!" said Garrosh, shouting high above the still roaring fires. "The power that he wields, I shall make my own! Yes, I have learned much from Neltharion, much! And I have learned from his Cataclysm as well. The power the Earth-Warder commands––to bend the planet to his will, that power _shall be mine!"_

"The power of the Earth Mother is not for one like you to command," said Baine.

"And look what Deathwing did with it!" said Garrosh. "And look what we can do with it!"

"The Earth Mother has forgiven the Worldmender," said Kador. "For using her gifts for such evil. These gifts are not to be used lightly."

"I intend not to use them so lightly, Tauren," said Garrosh. "This was the first step. Next we march on Theramore Isle. I shall use whatever tool to achieve that goal!"

"You shall not endanger anymore––"

Malkorok took hold of Baine's arm and shoved his face right upon the Tauren's snout.

"Silence! You serve at the will of the Warchief! Do not offer him insult. Or I shall challenge you to _mak'gora!"_

His lip trembled and he seethed with fury, hoping that the Tauren would take his offer and lunge for him. But Baine Bloodhoof was too much like his father, cool and calm-headed. Besides only taking up such a challenge would only prove that the orc had won the battle in controlling his emotions. No, he saw no honor in this and he backed away, keeping his emotions compressed, swallowing his own fury for this one orc.

"I wouldn't want to see anymore loyal Horde warriors fall this day," said Baine. Then he turned to Garrosh, his eyes growing dark. "I only speak of concern, for the well being of the Horde."

"Duly noted," said Garrosh, the corner of his mouth twitching in a cold, crooked smile. Though, Baine could hear a slight slant of snide insult upon the Mag'har's lips. "But know this, what I am doing is also for the best of the Horde. Too long, we've allowed the Alliance to have these little bits and pieces of Kalimdor. No longer. I shall cut off the supply trails leading into Theramore. Once I am done with Theramore, the Proudmoore bitch and her ideology of happy peace and prosperity will be destroyed and trampled beneath my feet. Next, I shall look to Feathermoon Stronghold, Teldrassil, the Moonglade, Lor'danel, all places where Alliance stand––I shall wipe them out one by one! Until all of Kalimdor belongs to the Horde!" He puffed out his chest. "And the Earth-Warder, even he shall bend to my greatness."

"You cannot destroy the Earth-Warder," said Baine. "It will––"

"I know," said Garrosh. "I have no intentions of destroying him. No, he's much too valuable as a tool to be used rather than a trophy hanging in Orgrimmar. No, I have plans for him. Yes, he must remain alive." He laughed. "And once all of Kalimdor is mine and the Earth-Warder mine as well, then, I shall accept your apology."

"Of course, Warchief," said Baine, his ears flattening. Then, he gave a bow and walked away, leaving Garrosh and his loyal remaining Kor'kron guard to bask in their tainted victory. As he left, Kador following him, Baine was once more silenced into deep thought. Everything that he had seen today, it was a painful poison inside of his heart.

He only cared to keep his people safe. But to do so would mean he had to perform acts he knew in his heart was wrong. There had to be a way to set things right. The Horde marched on and then set up camp for the night. Behind them were the bodies of the dead. Garrosh left some Horde behind to keep watch over what little stone remained of Northwatch. As they camped for the night, Baine retired to his traveling teepee and lit an incense burner. Then, he made a decision, they had to be warned. Baine took hold of the hammer gifted to him from Anduin Wrynn and walked out, calling for Kador.

"I come as you command, Chieftain," said the shaman.

"Normally I would send a Longwalker for this task," he began. "But this requires the Worldmender's aid one more time. Where is he, though?"

Kador stamped the ground and closed his eyes to listen to the beat of the heart of Azeroth reply back to him.

"Still in Tanaris," he said. "After what had happened, I would figure he'd be flying madly back to Theramore to warn them about what just happened."

"And he should," said Baine. "But I want you to send a message to him to send to Jaina Proudmoore. Garrosh plans on cutting off her supplies for one. She has to know what is about to come––and––to send a message to Anduin. Tell him––I'm not worthy to wield the gift he gave me. Tell them both that it pains me to betray them both."

He knelt down and began to wrap the hammer up carefully in fur and leather, decorated with the finest beads and feathers. As he wrapped the weapon up, he felt his heart quiver.

"And tell the Worldmender, I apologize for Garrosh's transgressions against the Earth Mother," Baine said. "Maybe he will––think of those of us a bit better..." He sighed. "There is no going back after this."

Baine handed the hammer to Kador and placed it into his hands.

"Take Fearbreaker," he said. "I can only hope that they all will forgive me for what I am about to do."

"If she is the gracious person that you have spoken about, then she will," said Kador. He bowed respectfully to his Chieftain and exited the tent. Kador began his run, sneaking out of the camp and into the growing night. He made it to the edge of the forest where the last of the savannah lowlands met the fresh green forest of the highlands and the swamp covered jungles of Dustwallow Marsh. There, Kador set the hammer down and began knelt to the ground. He started thrusting his fists upon the ground, rhythmically. The earth vibrated with every movement, waves like the ripples on a pond echoed out from the sound. Then, every rock began to quiver as they started to coalesce right in front of him. The gray and black stones started to take shape, rising up to form a hulking dragon, about the size of a large night saber. Eyes opened, the color of the finest emeralds. Moss dangled like a long braid from the dragon's chin and fresh iron ore lined the dragon's back like armor. Kador dipped his head in respect to the avatar of Neltharion, the Aspect of Earth.

"Greetings, Worldmender," he said.

"You were the one who called me during the battle?" said Neltharion.

"I am," said Kador. "Please, I ask that you forgive the actions that had transpired today."

"Were you responsible for raising those elementals?" the Black Aspect asked. "To destroy that post?"

"No, Worldmender," said Kador. "It was Hellscream's decision. His Dark Shaman were the ones responsible."

"Then there is nothing to forgive."

"You must know, it breaks my Chieftain's heart to––see such an atrocity," said Kador. "It was not in our best interest for Garrosh to go on his warpath. And it wounds him even more to see Garrosh use such dastardly methods to achieve his cheep victory over the Alliance. Baine Bloodhoof despises these actions, but he had conspire with the Warcheif's plans for the protection of his people."

"I can understand that," said Neltharion. "We have to do some horrible things when our family's protection is threatened. But your Chieftain."

"He bares no love for Hellscream, Worldmender," said Kador. "He is further disheartened that you would think ill of him because he must work with the likes of Warlord Zaela and her Dragonmaw all because she holds many of your own family under her control."

Neltharion bowed his head: "I am afraid that all the vibrations caused by so many cannons going off, I could not get a good picture of the battleground with my––Vision. Tell me, were any black drakes––"

"A few fell, Worldmender. But others have survived, still under the control of Zaela."

"I––wish I knew how to help them," said the Great Black. "I hope you and your shaman have forgiven me for my outburst at the Earthen Ring meeting. I––was angry at those strange riders––who rode on my children's backs. Now, I'm even more angry at Garrosh for his actions. I can't let your Warchief go unpunished for what he has done, you know that?"

"We Tauren understand if you feel that you must punish him for this insult to the Earth Mother," said Kador, his ears twitching. "We will not question what actions you shall take, Worldmender. But do know that this wasn't Baine's idea."

"Garrosh is all that I want," said Neltharion. "I have no quarrel with Thunder Bluff or its High Chieftain. But Garrosh and his Dark Shaman will pay for this. I'll have to go to the other Aspects for their wisdom in this, though. I don't want to make my actions against Garrosh look like I'm turning back into Deathwing again." He sighed. "Now I'm gonna have a good talk to Nozdormu about this...my eldest brother, the Time Lord, saw this coming."

Kador waited patiently as Neltharion mumbled off his thoughts, still grasping the covered hammer. Then, the Black Aspect turned to him, his eyes coming upon the bound leather in the tan and dark brown Tauren's hands.

"What's that?"

"This," began Kador. "This is to be given to Lady Jaina Proudmoore."

"What is it?"

"It is Fearbreaker, it belonged to Prince Anduin Wrynn," said Kador. "The Prince of Stormwind gave this to Baine after Cairne Bloodhoof was––"

"I am sorry for his loss," said Neltharion, catching the painful pitch of the Tauren's voice.

"Thank you," said Kador. "Baine has carried the hammer it since. However, because of what will happen, he feels unworthy of carrying it now and only asks if it returns to its former bearer. So, I have asked you if you could––take me to Theramore Isle and help speak on my behalf––and the behalf of my Chieftain."

Neltharion dipped his head: "I can do that." He paused. "Garrosh wants to head for Theramore."

"Yes, it's obvious now, isn't it? But there is much more he wants than Theramore."

"The whole continent?"

"Got it in one, Worldmender."

"Yeah, I know his type," said Neltharion. Then, he chuckled only half-heartedly. "I _was_ his type." He cleared his throat. "Alright, I'll get you to Theramore. But there is something I wish for in return."

"And what is that, Worldmender?"

"I'll discuss that with you _after_ you tell Jaina what that idiot is planning."

The rocky avatar took hold of the Tauren shaman and suddenly they both dove right into the ground, with barely a mark left behind to show that they were once there.


	6. VI

**VI**

Neltharion's entire body convulsed violently. Before him was his brother, Nozdormu, on the sand, holding his lower jaw, a few fangs missing. The Great Black bellowed loudly and the earth quaked all around him, rocks jutting up from the sand. Wind whipped around him, blowing his long beard around his neck, tangling it up in his spiky scales. As the Time Lord rose to his brassy feet, Neltharion struck. Rocks jutted forth all around him binding his body tightly. Nozdormu grunted as he jerked around, trying to get loose, but the rocks squeezed even tighter each time he squirmed. Neltharion swept his wings back and the sand rose up around him, like a wave. He lunged forward and the wave of sand fell upon his brother. Nozdormu shook his head, poking it out of the sand. He gave his blond beard a shake, spitting the grains from his mouth.

"I can ssssee you're upssset," he said.

"Upset?" Neltharion asked. "Upset? That's a fucking understatement! You're lucky I only gave you a love tap, I could have taken your jaw clean off."

"All braun and barely any brainssss," said Nozdormu. "Yeah, that really issss the very young Neltharion I remember. It took you five thousand yearssss to actually acquire sense."

"Fuck you!"

"Yup, even the inssssultsss are lacking ssssome merit."

Neltharion bellowed a frustrating roar at his elder brother. Nozdormu's glowing cyan's eyes narrowed and he grinned innocently at his younger brother.

"Molten giants!" said Neltharion.

"Yeah, I know."

"Was that it?" he asked. "Was that the horrible thing that was supposed to happen? Is it over yet?"

"Nope," said Nozdormu.

"What else is supposed to happen, tell me right now!"

"I can't."

Neltharion growled. He sensed the vibrations of movement and he turned. Lowering his head, the Black Dragon found one loan Tauren shaman standing just a little ways behind his right hind foot, only a dark speck against the tan, sun-bleached sand. Neltharion rumbled and swallowed. He dipped his head.

"My older brother knew what Garrosh was up to," he said. "If he had told me Garrosh's shamans could summon those elementals, I would have been there to stop him before he did." He turned back to Nozdormu. "And since he is refusing to tell me anything else that will happen, he's going to sit in his little time-out."

"Thingsss mussst happen, Neltharion," said Nozdormu. "Even onesss we don't want to happen. Go home to Calia, brother." The brassy Aspect smiled softly. "Besides, I'm sure you have lots to talk about with Kalecgossss––about that missing thing he's looking for. And your new companion must give Jaina the message about Garrosh's march on Theramore."

Neltharion growled, his lips curling. He pointed his claw at Nozdormu.

"Well, you can stay in the sand for all I care. You belong in it anyways!"

The Bronze Aspect attempted to shrug, though his tight restraints held him still. Though, he had to grin wider.

"I'm only doing what isss bessst for you, Neltharion," he said. "I jussst want to make ssssure you are sssafe, and not doing something irrational––given your mental ssstate."

"Don't patronize me."

Nozdormu grunted as he felt the rocks binding him squeeze tighter.

_Little brother, let him go!_

Neltharion growled, hearing the voice of his older, yet still dead brother Malygos call inside of his mind.

"You stay out of this, Mal."

Nozdormu looked up and took a deep breath, seeing the very transparent, wavering, ghostly form of the crystalline, deceased Blue Aspect floating above Neltharion's head.

"Hey, Mal," said the Time Aspect.

_Hello, No-Doze._

_You really need to relax, Nel._

Nozdormu chuckled as he saw another ghostly form standing right beside Neltharion's foreleg, dressed in the armor of a Death Knight.

"You really are being haunted," said the Bronze Dragon.

The little shaman looked around, trying to see exactly what it was that both Neltharion and Nozdormu were talking to. Though, he could not see anything, but he could feel a slight chill in the hot, desert air. He gripped the carefully wrapped hammer in leather tighter.

"I'm not letting him go, Arthas," Neltharion said. "Besides, he can get himself out just by speeding up the time around the rocks and causing them to weather down into the sand."

_Completely forgot Nozdormu can do that,_ said Malygos.

_I knew he was weirder than you, Nel,_ said Arthas, crossing his arms.

"Hey," said Neltharion with grunt.

_And that proves it,_ Arthas continued. _I suppose if he drives over 88 miles per hour, we'll see some serious shit._

"No, but I do own a blue-colored police box," said Nozdormu.

_Would have been more awesome if it was a fancy sports car that flies,_ said Arthas.

_Sorry, dear brother, I have to agree with the Lich King on that one,_ said Malygos.

"It isss bigger on the inside," said Nozdormu. "That'ssss cool, issssn't it?"

"If it doesn't have a spoiler, it doesn't count," said Neltharion. "And that scarf is ridiculous on you."

"Add insssult to injury," said Nozdormu. "And after all I was trying to help you out, little brother."

"Drugging me to keep me away from Garrosh isn't helping, Nozdormu," Neltharion said. He growled and then lifted his paw up, closing it into a fist. He tilted it and dropped it slightly, opening the paw, facing it down to the sand. Upon his command the rocks and sand loosened around Nozdormu and he was finally allowed to wiggle out. The Time Lord shook the sand free from his scales and looked up at his much larger brother with a smile. Neltharion sneered and then lowered his head to the sand. His green eyes roved over to the tiny Tauren. "I hope you went to the bathroom, because this is a non-stop flight."

"Uh," began Kador. "I––think I already did."

"Gross," said Neltharion. "Looks like I'm dunking my elementium plates in a bucket of disinfectant when we get back to Theramore."

He felt the little shaman took hold of his braided beard and started to scale up his enormous head and seated himself upon the dragon's crown. Then, the Earth-Warder raised his head up slowly and he stepped away from his older brother. Then, he spread his great, wrinkly black wings and kicked off, banking as he gained altitude. Kador held as tight as he could to the scales of the Earth-Warder as the dragon quickly gained speed. Flying around him like strange, blue will-o'-the-wisps, were the spirits of Malygos and Arthas. Below, the land blurred, sand becoming rugged badlands. Kador looked down, catching a sight of the Thousand Needles, tall spiring pillars of rocks that once laid in a great canyon of banded rock. Now, because of the Cataclysm, the canyon had flooded, creating a new, wide fjord. Tauren who still wondered the suspended bridges of the Thousand Needles looked up to the sky as the Great Black passed them.

The Tauren on the dragon's back closed his eyes against the torrent wind and he heard a horrible thunderous boom and Neltharion's speed quickened. He dared to open his eyes and he thought he saw the clouds around the dragon seem to warp just ever so slightly as if he just punctured the air around him upon gaining his new speed burst. A shower of ice feel upon him as he felt the dragons back jerk. Another thunderous boom and the Earth-Warder was pushed even further with a new added speed burst. The Tauren looked to his side, seeing the wings of Neltharion angled out as if he was just gliding. Streaming, condensing contrails of chilled air streaked out from the elementium armored leading phalanges. He could hear the deep beat of the dragon's heart reverberating through the elementium armor upon his neck. It kept time with the Heart of Azeroth, the spiritual being known to Tauren as the Earth Mother. For the first time, Kador felt he was nearly at one with the Earth Mother riding upon the Aspect's back. He felt he was being carried by the Earth Mother herself and it brought him to tears. The wind battered his dark brown mane and the shaman only smiled.

Neltharion banked and the water-drowned Thousand Needles and badlands quickly turned to a tangled, thorny landscape of impassible, spike vines. There the knolls as well as many other horrors crept in the shadows of the parched, twisted land. But he had little to fear of them. He could sense their fear as they fled, ducking into bleak thickets when his great shadow passed over.

Towards the west, the sun was finally setting, casting its orange glow over the land. Neltharion's green eyes spied baleful, black clouds on the northern horizon. He knew what that smoke was from, Northwatch Hold. Even from this high altitude, he could see it right at the rim of the world, growing ever so larger as he made his way north. When began to awaken in Tanaris, he felt something pull at him, dragging him down and down into darkness. He felt the painful heave of Azeroth, calling out with cries of agony and anguish. His body burned, his mind splintered, fractured, and the voices of the elementals begging to be released.

_We do not will this!_ He heard them say. _They bind us! They make us do this! They are hurting us!_

Even after he bid for their freedom, breaking the forceful bond between the Dark Shaman and the molten giants, Neltharion could still feel the earth writhe with the traumatic afterglow of agony. He cried for it, he wept as he awoke in the Caverns of Time. His heart still quivered after their release. That was why he was furious at Garrosh, but because of what Nozdormu did––he was even more furious at him than Garrosh.

Outside of the free spirit of his brother Malygos, Nozdormu was the only one left. He tricked him.

_Why?_ Neltharion thought to himself. _Why did he do it? Why trick me that way? Does he not trust me? Two years have gone by, I haven't even done anything that would lead them to suspect Deathwing ever taking control of me again––and none of that is rewarded? Not even a little bit? Why am I alone in this world? Why can't I have the trust of my brothers and sisters? I trust them, but they seek out ways of always tricking me! They treat me like I'm some stupid child. I feel like I am losing those close to me now. Thrall, he would not help when I ask, now Nozdormu forbids me from even acting as the Aspect of Earth should. Yet, I have to trust them. I'm more forgiving of them than they are of me._

As the sun began to set behind the rolling hills of the marsh, Neltharion landed upon the little island kingdom of Theramore. He landed upon the beach, a long stretch of white sand he built up for him to lay upon and sun himself. Neltharion lowered his head down to allow his passenger off and then shrank himself down to his smaller, humanoid size. He tapped the tauren upon the shoulder.

"You still have Anduin's hammer?" he asked.

"Yes, Worldmender," said Kador.

Neltharion dipped his head and motioned for the Tauren to follow him. Before them laid the tall palisade that was built during the time of Theramore's founding. Neltharion raised his paw, halting their path. Then, with a mighty leap, he came to the top of the wall. Touching the stones that held it together, he brought a line of them down as he jumped to the other side, providing an opening for Kador to walk through. Then, as soon as he was through, Neltharion swished and stomped his left foot, commanding the stone to rise once more, returning to its protective rest as the wall.

"Come on," he said to the Tauren.

The deep yellow light White Lady began to rise behind them, in a waning gibbous. Behind her was the Blue Child, also in a waning gibbous, the two celestial bodies growing farther and farther apart with each passing year since the Embrace. The moons cast their glow upon the stone of Theramore, turning it a pale blue and stark black shadows zigzagged across the courtyard as the two walked into it. Neltharion paused, seeing a familiar form walking towards the gates of Theramore. He was a half elf with blue hair and wearing a leather jerkin, pants, and a white shirt. But there was great arcane power radiating out of that half elf, greater than any mage on Azeroth.

"Kalecgos," Neltharion said. "Kador, it's time for a pop quiz."

"What do you mean?" asked Kador.

"See that half elf there?" Neltharion asked. "Stop him with your earth manipulation before he leaves the city."

"Why?"

"Don't ague with me, just do it."

Kador stomped his foot upon the ground and a large limestone rock rose from the ground upon his command. He took in a deep breath and then thrusted his fist out, hitting the rock and sending it flying towards the half elf. The half elf turned just as the rock smacked right into his head. He fell over, hitting the ground hard. Neltharion grimaced, his green eyes wide.

"Okay, I didn't mean knocking him out!" he said. "Eh, C-minus."

Neltharion rose to his hind legs and swept his tail. The ground quaked and rolled towards the elf. As the elf rose, he found his hands and feet bound in rock. Neltharion and Kador walked up to him. The rock soon let him go and Neltharion kelt to the elf, pinching a pointed ear and lifting him up.

"Hey!" the elf called.

"Kalecgos," said Neltharion. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Neltharion, let me go!" Kalecgos called.

"Kalecgos?" Kador asked. "The Spell Weaver?"

"The Young Spell Weaver," said Neltharion.

"Damn it, Neltharion, let me go!" he said. "I have to get going, I'm in a hurry!"

Neltharion pulled the Blue Dragon Aspect disguised as a half elf closer to him.

"Why are you in a hurry?" he asked.

"Look, it'll take too long to explain," he said.

"Really? Tell me anyways. I heard you lost something. So, why are you needing Jaina Proudmoore's help to find what it is you lost? Hmmm?"

"That's Blue Dragon business!"

Neltharion pinched a bit tighter and Kalecgos flinched in the sharp pain.

"Let go!" he called.

"Tell me and I'll let you go."

Kalecgos' eyes started watering with the pain and he grunted in the Black Dragon's grasp. Neltharion pulled him close to his snout.

"Come on," he said. "Just say it."

"Ahhh!" Kalecgos said. "I––I lost––I lost the Focusing Iris!"

"You what?" Neltharion asked.

_He did what?!_

Neltharion grunted when he heard the sound of Malygos' voice echo though the night, fury touching every word. The Black Dragon let the new Blue Aspect go and Kalecgos held his hands to his now throbbing, red ear.

"How could you lose Malygos's Focusing Iris?" Neltharion asked. "It was protected by the Nexus."

"I didn't mean to lose it," said Kalecgos.

"Why the hell did you lose it?"

"I was moving it," he said. "I had some trusted Blue Dragons to move it."

_Why were you moving my Iris, you idiotic upstart?_

"Not now, Mal," said Neltharion. "Okay, you heard your predecessor, why were you moving pretty much the most powerful weapon on Azeroth outside the now destroyed Dragon Soul?"

"Because everyone in the fucking planet knows what the Focusing Iris is and where it is!" said Kalecgos. "That's why!" He breathed heavily. "What's the Focusing Iris? Oh, it's only that shiny lens that Malygos built to destroy all magical users on the planet because he got as paranoid as you, you big black moron! And where is it? The Nexus. Everyone and their grandmothers know how to get to it."

"But the Focusing Iris has never been disturbed since the Nexus War," said Neltharion. "Until you decided to move it. Nice plan. I can see why Norgannon picked you to become the new Spell Weaver."

"Shut up!" Kalecgos said. "You're the one to talk. Look how tightly you kept the Dragon Soul in your hands."

"Oh, oh, don't go there, pipsqueak," Neltharion.

"I already went there, fatty," said Kalecgos. "I went there and bought the T-shirt!"

Neltharion snatched the Blue Dragon up by his collar and dragged him close until they came nose to nose. Solid defiance upon Kalecgos' face soon melted to a chilly, shaking fear as he gazed into the emerald eyes of Neltharion. His lisp puckered, his nose wrinkled and his eyebrows rose. There was a small whimper coming from the Young Spell Weaver as he looked into the Earth-Warder's eyes.

"Alright, that's enough," said a familiar voice. "Break it up, you two."

Neltharion turned to see a human woman with golden, ashy light brown and golden blond locks, pulled back in a short ponytail behind her head walk up to him. She was dressed in a black, short sleeve shirt with a leather tethered gun holster and her semi-automatic pistol right at her side, and a pair of black cargo pants with many pockets and black army boots. She wore no armor because the armor would just slow her down. Beside her was a human with long black hair, the color of night, dressed in the traditional Alliance armor and Theramore tabard with a mixture of the Lordaeron L and a boat anchor upon his chest. However, Neltharion knew very well that this human was not a human at all, seeing the red glow of his eyes under his thick brow. He was a black dragon, one of his flight that lived in the marsh. As a sign of mutual agreement between Theramore and the Black Dragonflight of Dustwallow Marsh, a couple of mature male dragons who could shape shift into mortal forms offered some service as guards in Theramore. However, this particular dragon was assigned to Calia Hastings when she went on her trip––a mission she could not disclose to her husband, the Black Aspect Neltharion.

"Calia," said Neltharion, his eyes lit up and a loving smile appeared upon his face. The Black Aspect dropped Kalecgos right upon the cobble stone road and rushed to scoop her up into his huge forelegs. He started nuzzling her with his snout, purring loudly.

"Oh, I've missed you too, you big lug!" she said, giving him a big hug, smiling under his fluffy, silky beard. She pulled away and kissed him softly upon his lips, caressing his cheeks. It was then that Neltharion heard something rather strange from his human wife. He could hear it vibrate down through the rock, he could smell it upon her skin. What he heard, what his sensitive ears picked up was the sound of two heart beats. A black claw lowered down to Calia's belly and he pressed it against her shirt. Calia looked up at him with those stark blue-green eyes and just smiled. Then she looked to the Tauren who stared upon her with bewilderment and she took a deep breath. "We'll talk later."

Neltharion had not seen her in nearly two months now. Her trip took her everywhere across the Eastern Kingdoms of Azeroth, from the Plaguelands of Lordaeron, her home, to even the jungles of the Wetlands. For now, he was just happy to see her safely home again. He turned to the black dragon disguised as a Theramore guard and nodded.

"Thank you for taking care of her, Ruthian," he said.

"An honor, my lord," said Ruthian.

Calia looked to the Tauren again and let go of Neltharion.

"Honey, how many times do I have to tell you?" she began. "Stop picking up people off the streets. We can't keep him."

"Uh," began Neltharion. "No, he's––he's been sent by Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof."

Calia looked from the Kador to Neltharion, and back again: "What does the Chieftain want with Theramore?"

"I am afraid that's only for the ears of Lady Jaina Proudmoore," said Kador. "Forgive me."

"She's going to hear it anyways," said Neltharion. "Kador, this is my Prime Consort."

"Your Prime Consort?" Kador asked. "Is she a dragon too?"

Calia sighed, lowering her head, wagging it in exasperation.

"Well––um," said Neltharion. "It's a long story. Once you're done with Jaina, I'm going to be telling Calia anyways. There's no need for secrecy here. Just everyone else can't know." He turned to Calia. "Can you and Ruthian make sure Kalecgos doesn't leave until I've had a talk with him too?"

"Why are we holding Kalecgos prisoner?" Calia asked.

"Because the idiot lost the Focusing Iris and the ghost of Malygos says I might be able to help him find it better than Jaina could," said Neltharion.

"You can?" Kalecgos asked.

Neltharion looked back at him: "Yeah, I can. There's something you younger blue dragons never knew about me and Malygos, mostly because after your birth, I was already being controlled by Deathwing and he wanted you all extinct. So, I suspect Malygos just didn't say anything." He turned to Ruthian. "Take him down into the caves." Neltharion stomped a foot and a stone slab opened up on a sidewalk, leading down into a dark tunnel. "And hold him there until I talk with him. And make sure he doesn't leave! Calia, go with them, and if you have to, do what you do best."

"You mean break every bone in his body to keep him from escaping?" Calia asked as Ruthian took hold of Kalecgos, dragging him for the opening.

"No," said Neltharion. "Well, maybe that if it comes to it. Tie him up."

"Right," said Calia. "Come on, Kalec, you're getting a timeout."

"But I have to find the Focusing Iris!" said Kalecgos as he was being pushed into the tunnel. "Neltharion!"

"Move it, blueberry," said Ruthian.

"Blueberry?" Kalecgos asked. "I'm an Aspect!"

"Not my Aspect," said the black dragon. "In the hole!"

"I totally don't wanna get in the hole," said Kalecgos.

"Get in the damned hole!"

"Tell me all about it when you get done, hon," said Calia as she disappeared into the tunnel with Ruthian and Kalecgos.

_Don't need to be so rough on him, Neltharion,_ said Malygos.

"Ah, bitch about it to me later, Mal," said Neltharion.

The tunnel closed up. Neltharion turned back to Kador.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go see Jaina."

As they came upon the lavish grounds of Proudmoore Manor, they were halted by the guards. Neltharion's good faith though managed to see them both through and they started inside. Lady Jaina Proudmoore was about to turn in for the night, exhausted in her attempts to help Kalecgos search for the Focusing Iris. She had other things on her mind, though, after the radio communicate had returned that something amiss was happening in Northwatch Hold. Now, Neltharion had returned home from his missions with the Earthen Ring, and he brought with him a Tauren shaman holding something valuable, wrapped up in the finest soft leather and decorated with beads and feathers. She quickly dressed herself in a night robe and sat down upon a chair as Neltharion showed the Tauren in.

"Nel," said Jaina. "Welcome home."

"Thank you," said Neltharion. "Good to be home, but well––"

He stood aside to let Kador come with the bundle he was carrying. He held out the bundle to Jaina and she stood up to take it.

"My Chieftain sends his blessings and––this, Lady Jaina," he said.

Jaina took it and began to carefully unwrap it only to reveal the great, golden hammer that was once gifted to Baine Bloodhoof from Prince Anduin himself.

"Fearbreaker," she said.

"He said you would recognize it," said Kador.

"How could I not?" she asked.

"My Chieftain thinks of you with great respect, ma'am," said Kador. "He remembers the night he recieved such a fine gift from you and the young prince. With that, he wishes to return such kindness with this warning. Garrosh Hellscream means to take Theramore by siege."

"Northwatch Hold," said Jaina. "What happened there?"

"Terrible things," said Kador. "The victory the Horde has won came at a dark price. For that, the High Chieftain despises it. Garrosh Hellscream has gone against the Earth Mother herself in attempt to gain this victory."

"Molten Giants," said Neltharion. "And only a few weeks or so after the Earthen Ring began their big push under my direction not to use such powerful elementals."

"I know you and Thrall had this plan before to prevent anyone from using them," said Jaina, looking back at the Black Aspect.

"Every shaman has agreed that this would worsen the damage already caused by the Cataclysm," said Kador. "What Garrosh has done angers all of us."

"Now he wants to come to Theramore and take it too?" Jaina asked. "Even after––he was there––Garrosh was there with me and your former Warchief Thrall––Go'el––for a declaration of peace between the Horde and Theramore. Despite this being an Alliance stronghold, we are in a way mutual allies. Why would he break this treaty?"

"In the words of my dear wife Calia," began Neltharion. "Why do you think Garrosh Hellscream would want to break that treaty?"

"I wish you would stop listening to her so much, Nel," said Jaina. "It's not healthy for the Earth-Warder to start sounding like Varian Wrynn." Her head lowered and her sparkling, sand-dollar blond locks feel into her tan face. "Of course, he wants everything, doesn't he?"

"His goal is nothing less than every inch of Kalimdor under his rule, my lady," said Kador. "And this even further displeases many among the Horde."

"You already won the war during the Cataclysm," said Jaina. "Most Alliance forces are now just about live and let live. We've––got our own problems to contend without another war to further cause anymore trouble."

"Garrosh is not satisfied, though," said Kador. "My warning is simple. Hellscream's forces are strong and his methods are dirty. As you are now, you will be crushed under its might. He doesn't even seem all that worried about you having the Worldmender to defend you. I am afraid I do not know what other plans he is cooking up. But after what I had seen at Northwatch, he might have the power to even challenge the Earth-Warder."

"Hah!" said Neltharion. "I like to see him try it!"

Kador looked to Neltharion: "The shaman he used to raise the giants, they were from the Twilight Hammer."

Neltharion fell silent, his eyes widening, his ire building. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to burn like two orange coals amid the darkness. Kador caught the sound of the Black Dragon's deep, rolling growl and for a brief moment, he wanted to bolt right from the room. He could sense the heat in Jaina's chambers rise as Neltharion's anger fumed. The fur along the Tauren's neck began to stand up.

"Deathwing gave many secrets to the Twilight Hammers to ensure the coming of the Hour of Twilight," said Neltharion. "What else have they given Garrosh?"

"I am afraid the secrets that Garrosh holds are vast, Earth-Warder," said Kador. "Orgrimmar has become a police state. Whatever else the Warchief does, it does not leave the city. No other Horde leader knows what he is doing. He tells no one but his Kor'kron and the Twilight Hammer and a few trusted Dragonmaw. The Twilight Hammer and the Dragonmaw, both were once a part of the Old Horde." He turned to Jaina. "Now, they have renewed their allegiance again––to Garrosh Hellscream himself––and only to Hellscream."

"What did Deathwing give the Twilight Hammers?" asked Jaina.

"Knowledge on how to build weapons, powerful ships, dark shamanic magic so powerful that only those who had great strength and connection to the elements could perform," said Neltharion. Then his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "And Titan technology."

The Black Aspect growled and his head lowered into his paw.

"So that's the secret!" he said. "Titans damn it, you asshole, Garrosh! The Twilight Hammers know how to see through seismic vibrations in the ground and can generate a frequency that can mute those vibrations." He looked up at Kador. "That asshole was using Twilight Hammer Shamans to create that frequency to blind me so I wouldn't know he was marching on Northwatch. Of course, how could someone like me not miss the movement of an army as big as that? And he's probably doing something similar to Orgrimmar to make sure I don't see what he's doing there, and maybe with a Titan device. My father, Khaz'Goroth, built lots of these devices to help seal away Titan facilities and keep them hidden. And I knew how to build them. And Deathwing knew how to build them. And he shared that with the Twilight Hammer." The dragon growled, banging his head against the wall, causing it to tremble. "Hellscream, damn you, Hellscream! Damn you, stupid Twilight Hammers! What else does Garrosh have?"

"I am afraid I don't know much," said Kador. "All of this you've told me, I––had no idea he was in possession of it."

"Well, this can't get any worse," said Neltharion.

"How can this not get any worse, Nel?" asked Jaina.

"Jaina, my dear, worse would mean Garrosh, in some weird, contrived way, managed to get a hold of the Dragon Soul too," said Neltharion. "And if he did, I'd say just pack up now. Because there is no way you can defeat him with that. I could. He can shoot me all he wants with it and it wouldn't do anything. Everyone else though, might as well take the cyanid pill right now––less painful."

"You're a bucket full of joy, you know that?" Jaina said, sarcasm spiced each word.

Neltharion's eyes turned back to Kador, his mind picking up the Tauren's foolish attempts to hide his own thoughts when he said the words 'Dragon Soul'. Though Kador knew the ancient and very powerful artifact as the Demon Soul, he had heard it be referred to as the Dragon Soul a few times. The Tauren lowered his head as he felt Neltharion's piercing gaze upon him.

"He has the Dragon Soul, doesn't he?" the Aspect asked.

"Well, no, not exactly," said Kador. "Well––"

"Son, you can't hide it from me," said Neltharion. "One way or another, I'm gonna pry that info out of you. Just go ahead and say it."

"A tauren mercenary, back before Deathwing was––um––vanquished from your mind," he began. "Helped Zaela take control of the Dragonmaw from Overlord Mor'ghor. She discovered that one of the Dragonmaw–– Narkrall Rakeclaw had in procession, the chain worn by Nekros Skullcrusher––and that chain bore the Demon Soul––which was given to him by Zuluhed the Whacked, who came to possess it from a goblin––"

"Who was instructed to give it to him by Deathwing," said Neltharion. "Yes, I know the story. And it makes my head hurt each time I'm reminded of it. Oh, damn it, the chain? The chain that held the Dragon Soul, Zaela's got that chain?"

"She calls it the Demon Chain," he said.

"The Dragon Soul has no affect on my flight," said Neltharion. "Deathwing, when he called the Aspects, he told them to empower it. Every member of every flight put their power in it––even Krasus, Alexstrasza's former Prime. They all did it. Except for mine, except for me. Why? So no one would ever use it to take control of my flight. And so that Deathwing could be the most powerful Aspect––because he didn't quite have all my powers when he took over my body. I locked all that stuff away, keeping it from him. She's using residual energies of the Dragon Soul on those black drakes to control them? How? How is she able to do that? It shouldn't affect them."

"I don't know," said Kador. "I just know that she can use its energies to control the minds of weaker dragons––like her black drakes."

Neltharion leaned back and said with a monotoned voice: "Well, this just got personal."

"I think it's always been personal since the Dragonmaw Clan decided to enslave black dragons for the Horde," said Jaina.

"Yeah, but now it's getting real personal," said Neltharion.

"Worldmender," began Kador. "I only give you this information because of our bound through the Earth Mother. For that, I would almost say that you and the Tauren like myself are brothers."

"I thank you," said Neltharion.

Kador nodded. Jaina rose from her chair, placing the hammer down upon her bed. She walked over to the tauren and held out her hand.

"Your chieftain is an honorable tauren to send you here," she said. "His warning will help save innocent lives."

"His last message is to tell Fearbreaker's former wielder that because of what is about to happen, the Chieftain feels that it is no longer his to keep."

"I understand," said Jaina.

"He means no disrespect to the prince."

"I know."

Neltharion looked to Jaina, catching a glimpse of tears falling from her eyes. He could sense her thoughts, how this news distraught her. Most important, he could hear the beat of her heart, what it was saying as she walked over to her wooden desk. She reached under the lamp to turn on the incandescent light and pulled out a piece of parchment from an elaborately carved drawer. Everything she hoped for in making this little kingdom, she hoped to build it to promote healing and understanding between two peoples who did not quite see eye to eye. However, though she knew such friendships were strong, they only went so far. Baine and his people were Horde and were always going to be Horde. Neltharion sensed that Jaina knew how vulnerable the Tauren would be if they stood against Garrosh, and so, they must do what they have to do––they must fight for him. As he watched the leader of Theramore write upon the parchment, he turned into himself with a deep thought. He returned his thoughts to what Nozdormu said. Though Jaina had tried to bridge that gap, even she was bound to fail in this. But Nozdormu believed that perhaps Neltharion could do what Jaina attempted. Perhaps it would not take a member of the Alliance to bridge the gap, but someone who stood in between. Baine has no love of Garrosh, but he is forced to do what the Warchief said, more out of fear of losing his own people's protection.

Then there was that Tauren pride and honor. Baine knew that even going back on the Horde, even if it was because of Garrosh would further deface himself, even among his people. Neltharion knew that the Horde cannot be taken down, it should not be taken down. The problem is Garrosh and how he controlled the Horde. Maybe Baine needed someone powerful to fall back on just in case he decided to step up and face Garrosh.

Then, Jaina rolled up the parchment, and stamped it with a seal. She got up and handed it to Kador.

"You should take this, it will ensure your passage through Alliance territory, if you are ever caught."

"Your concern is appreciated," said Kador. "But––"

"My dragons will return him safely to his chieftain," said Neltharion.

"Thank you, Worldmender," said Kador, though still, he took the parchment.

"Consider it a symbol of my neutrality in this war," said Neltharion. "I cannot get involved with the war between the Alliance and the Horde. However, your Warchief is using dangerous artifacts and spells to fight this war with, that part I must become involved in." He turned back to Jaina. "But know this, what I do is not to give the Alliance an edge, but to stop an idiot from doing something even more stupid. What I may do will protect both lives."

"Many Tauren have died because of Garrosh's molten giants, Worldmender," said Kador. "If he continues to use such reckless methods, there may not be a Horde to celebrate his unwarranted victory."

"Oh, there will be a Horde, alright, but a Horde that's more like the expendable foot-soldiers of the Burning Legion than the Horde that the likes of Cairne and Thrall were proud of creating," said Neltharion.

"Please, take refreshment and rest here," said Jaina. "And return to your chieftain safely."

"The Earth Mother smiles upon you, Lady," said Kador. "I now know why my chieftain speaks of you with kind words and I understand him more for it."

"Thank you," said Jaina. "Light be with you."

"And may barrels of beer be with me!" said Neltharion. "Come on, shaman, I've got food at my place."

Kador bowed respectfully to Jaina as he and the Earth-Warder turned to leave. Neltharion dipped his head.

"I'll be back with Calia and we can start talking about what we need to do when the Horde comes," he said.

"Right," said Jaina. "Tell the guards to send for Tervosh, Pained and Kinndy as well."

"Just as long as Kinndy stays the hell away from me, I will," said Neltharion. "Your pet gnome gives me the creeps. Especially the way she likes to cling to my hind leg."

Jaina gave him a weak laugh as he closed the door. Neltharion motioned for the Tauren to follow him.

"Okay, you and I have a lot to talk about," he said. "But not here. When we get outside, I'll open up the passage to the tunnels that leads down to my lair, where we can discuss things a little further. But know this, what I want to talk about may help you and your chieftain, understand?"

"Yes," said Kador.

"Good, now, follow me," said Neltharion. As they walked from the manor, the Earth-Warder stomped his foot and a passage opened up from the sidewalk. The Black Dragon started to descend down into the passage and motioned for the Tauren to follow him. Then, the passage closed up before the Night Elf Pained and the Gnome Kinndy started to run for the manor, followed by Calia and Ruthian.


End file.
